


The Paramedic and the Bard

by disaster_imp



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Car Accidents, Doctor Yennefer, F/F, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Medical Procedures, Medical Trauma, Mental Health Issues, Mild Smut, Musician Jaskier | Dandelion, Paramedic Geralt, Paramedic Triss, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trauma descriptions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:28:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 47,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23311624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disaster_imp/pseuds/disaster_imp
Summary: Don't try this at home, bardlets. This is a fictional representation of a blunt force trauma that is not intended to be perfectly realistic.
Relationships: Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Triss Merigold/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 245
Kudos: 236





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt has a job to do.

“Hey, kid,” Geralt called from the kitchen when he heard the door slam.

Thump, went a bag on the wooden floor, followed by footsteps heading toward the stairs.

“Oi! Get in here and have something to eat first.”

Ciri groaned, but changed direction. “Do I have to?”

“No. But –” Geralt started.

“Healthy, fuel, I know,” she grumbled.

Geralt smiled as her dancer’s gait skipped into the kitchen and took a seat. She was growing so fast, before he knew it she’d be finishing high school, and off to live her own life. He checked his watch.

“Gotta run.” He pointed to a box on the counter. “Dinner. Yenn’ll pick you up after dance.”

“Stop fussing, I know the drill.”

He tousled her hair on his way out. “And do your homework!”

Ciri shook her head, but she was smiling as the front door slammed shut again.

Geralt parked his car, swiped in and dumped his bag by the truck. Day shift: present. Good. No sign yet of Lambert. _Also good_ , came the thought. Geralt pushed it away. _Be_ _professional_ , he chided himself.

Kitchen. Empty.

Office door shut. Voices. Hmm.

He headed back to the kitchen to grab a coffee while he waited, and didn’t make it two steps before hearing a selcall go off. He turned around to see Eskel bursting through the door, giving a wide grin when she saw Geralt.

“Good, you’re here,” she said. “Triss, go home, this troublemaker is stepping in.”

Vesemir’s head appeared in the doorway, scowling. “ _You two_. I avoid rostering you together for a reason. Behave yourselves.”

Geralt arched an eyebrow, but didn’t waste time arguing. There was a reason he’d never taken a management pathway.

“Come on, slacker!” Esk shouted from ahead, activating the garage doors.

Triss grabbed her bag, handing over her keys and radio and Geralt swapped his gear in.

“Fuck,” came from the driver’s side of the cabin, and Esk shot out to unplug the power from the back.

“Truck won’t start?” Geralt teased. “Are you ever going to learn?”

“Can’t teach an old medic new tricks,” Esk quipped, swinging back in to her seat. “Buckle up, buster.”

Geralt set the navigator as the ambulance pulled out into the street, before checking the case details. Peak hour, multi-vehicle, freeway. Great, getting to it would be slow and it would probably be a nose to tail with a lot of people panicking and no actual injuries. Well, hopefully no injuries.

“You know, he avoids rostering us together because he hates that we have fun.”

Geralt grunted his agreement.

“Comms to Eldersea,” the radio squawked. “We’re getting multiple calls on this. Truck vs car, two possible patients, one trapped. I’m going to find you an extra unit and IC backup. Freeway is completely blocked off, you’re closer to the off ramp if you want to try that first. Police and fire rescue are en route.”

Geralt and Esk exchanged a look.

“Eldersea, acknowledged,” Geralt replied.

Geralt shoved several pairs of large gloves in his pocket and draped a few smaller ones across Esk’s leg. Safety vest, on. Glasses. Radio.

“Off ramp is clear. Freeway is empty…” Geralt confirmed as they approached. “People everywhere.”

“Comms this is Eldersea, confirming truck vs car, all lanes blocked, best access for all services is via the off ramp. Keep the other resources coming, and we’re going to need some scene control.”

“Thanks, Eldersea. I’ll pass along the update. Let us know if you need anything else.”

Esk pulled the ambulance up and around in front of the car, leaving plenty of room for the rescue truck to get close. She’d barely stopped when Geralt stepped out, pulling bags from the side door. Multiple bystanders approached, and he pointed them at Esk, heading straight for the car, whose entire back half was pinned between the front of the truck and a concrete barrier. The back of a B-double truck had swung out, blocking most of the freeway. No driver visible, but the chances of injury to him were slim, Esk would figure that out. Another siren and flashing lights in the distance, a rescue truck was nearly here.

Several bystanders were hovering around the car, and Geralt turned up the gruff. “Were any of you involved? Injured?”

A chorus of No’s.

“If you saw what happened, go find my partner. You, stay.” This to a calm woman reassuring the driver. She nodded, and as people dispersed, Geralt took in the state of the vehicle. The driver’s side window was shattered, the roof of the vehicle sloping down at an angle toward where it met the underside of the truck. Inside was a man, conscious, but pale and gasping for breath.

“Paramedics are here,” the woman said to the driver, and he looked at Geralt with terrified eyes. His breathing was coming in short, shallow gasps, and blood trickled down from somewhere on his head.

“Don’t move your head,” Geralt instructed, calmer, reassuring. “I don’t think we can get someone in there to hold it, and you risk doing more damage. Hold still, ok? Was there anyone else in the car with you?”

The man shook his head very slightly.

“Good, we’ll have you out of there as soon as we can. Now, I’m –”

Geralt tried the door, unsurprised when it failed to open.

“I’m going to reach in and check a few things, okay? Put some equipment on you so I can keep an eye on your vitals. In few minutes, there’s going to be a lot of noise and a bit of movement around you, we’re going to have to cut the car up to get you out. Can you talk? Blink if you can’t, don’t shake your head.”

The man blinked.

“Okay. I’m going to reach across and unclip the seat belt,” He saw the man reach for it himself, but with his right hand twisting across his body. His left hand was pressing on the right side of his chest. “No, don’t twist your body, you might make things worse.”

Geralt soon had the man’s chest exposed, monitors on and blood pressure cuff going. He refused to move his left hand, and Geralt saw that part of his chest was moving a little strangely compared to his breathing. He pulled out a stethoscope to listen to his lungs. Not happy with what he heard, he pulled back and looked at the man’s neck carefully. Distended veins, trachea looked like it had shifted to the left.

“Keep that hand there.”

Several police cars were rolling in together, and Geralt turned to the woman.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Nenneke.”

“Nenneke, the police can handle everyone out there now. Can you find my partner and tell her to grab the airway kit? Quick as you can.”

She nodded and raced off. Geralt looked at the numbers. Heart rate, too fast. Blood pressure borderline. Oxygen sats… not great. Oxygen on, rescue approaching.

“Okay lad. Can you use your arms, hands okay?”

The man gave a thumbs with his free hand.

“Point to where it hurts the most.”

The man looked at him skeptically, indicating his chest.

“It’s not as stupid a question as it sounds. Now point to everywhere else it hurts.”

Abdomen, right hip, right leg.

“Neck, back ok? Can you wiggle your toes? You can feel them?”

Another thumbs up.

“Anything trapping your legs?”

Some slight movement and another thumb, and Geralt relaxed slightly. Esk tapped his arm.

“Hello,” she said, poking her head in cheerfully. “I’m Esk. This thug that probably hasn’t properly introduced himself yet is Geralt. Try not to die, he takes it personally.”

Geralt glared at her. He didn’t know how she did it, but the man actually smiled.

“Has he given you anything for the pain?”

“I haven’t had time. Flail chest, pneumothorax. Possibly abdominal and pelvic injuries. Can you set up for the IV, fluid and morph? The IC looks like they’re here.” Geralt said, pushing buttons to get another set of vitals.

“Any allergies?” he asked the man.

He indicated no.

“Alright. Esk is going to put a needle in your arm. We can give you something for the pain, and we’ll set up fluid just in case, but your chest is something we have to manage quickly too. One of your lungs is leaking air into places it shouldn’t, and we’re going to have to put a needle in through your chest to help you breathe. There’s an intensive care paramedic on his way to do that now. I know it sounds scary, but so is not breathing.”

Geralt turned to the firefighter, who had already walked around inspecting the vehicle.

“The airbags haven’t deployed. Can you disable that first real quick, hold things still while we stabilize him, then be ready to pop the door off to get him out? I don’t think he’s physically trapped, but there’s not much space here.”

“Sure. Let me in, I’ll try the release first.”

The front end popped, and firefighters wrestled the lid up. Between the damage to the car and the concrete wall, the sounds of tortured metal were grating, but they managed. Coën was approaching with his bags of advanced equipment, and Geralt gave him a quick handover.

“Good to go!” someone called soon afterwards, and the crew scurried off like well-trained ants to stabilize the car and prepare their equipment.

As soon as Esk taped the IV in and administered some morphine, Geralt set up for Coën to decompress. Coën inspected their patient’s chest and neck and listened to his lungs again, before carefully counting ribs.

“Ready?” Coën asked.

The man blinked, and his eyes gravitated toward Geralt rather than Coën. Geralt reached out, putting a hand on his shoulder, and the man gripped it tightly with his free hand.

“I’m right here, lad. You’re going to be fine. Coën knows what he’s doing, and it’s not going to hurt as badly as you expect.”

“On three then,” Coën stated. “One, two, Three –”

A slightly wet pop, a hiss of air, and Geralt almost smiled as the man winced, and then visibly relaxed as his breathing became easier. Coën smirked. Geralt hit the buttons again, and waved at rescue while Coën looked over what he needed to.

“Okay lad. We’re going to have to step back for a minute and let these folks do their thing. I’ll stay within line of sight. If you need me for anything, just wave okay?”

“Thank you,” the man managed.

“Don’t try to talk. You still have a chest injury there; all we’ve done is put a bandaid on it.”

“I’ll fetch the board and the stretcher,” Esk said. “The other crew are here too, the only other patient is the driver of the truck, they can look after him so we’re all covered.”

Geralt nodded at her gratefully. The years had given him a high level of regard for anyone who did their job without needing to have everything dictated to them. Working with Lambert was… challenging. He knew his stuff, but he was lazy, he didn’t make the effort to make things easier for others, and Geralt hated that he felt like he had to double check everything.

With the door off the car and a quick check to make sure no part of him was stuck, Geralt guided the crew and the patient through the extrication. It was quick work, straight onto the stretcher and into the back of the ambulance. Priorites… breathing, blood pressure, spinal. They couldn’t immobilize him effectively with that chest injury… Coën took the seat behind the driver, airway kit ready just in case, leaving the jockey’s seat for Geralt.

“Better, but your blood pressure’s still low,” he said, looking over the numbers while Coën had another listen to his chest. “How’s the breathing feeling now?”

“Better,” the man whispered.

“Pain?”

“Bad.”

Geralt administered another dose of morphine and an anti-emetic, explaining his rationale. “Right to go, Eski!” Geralt called from the back, pulling out a pair of shears.

“I need to get a good look at the rest of you. Which means cutting your clothes off, so you don’t twist your spine. Okay?”

“Yes.”

“Yes? Usually I get more of an argument.”

The man tilted his eyes in Geralt’s direction. “You’re cute. You want to see me naked, I’m in.”

Coën choked, and Geralt snorted. “That’ll be the morphine talking. All I want is to take your clothes off.”

Coën stared at him, chuckling quietly. The man on the bed was trying to hide a smile, and Geralt grew flustered. “Because it’s my _job_. What are you all, twelve? SHUT UP ESK, I CAN HEAR YOU THINKING.”

“Didn’t say a word,” she shot back.

“Hrmm,” Geralt growled, getting to work. “Coën, you better pretend like you’re a professional and let the trauma team know we’re dropping in. His blood pressure isn’t picking up, is there anything else you want to…?”

“Not just yet. Run that bag of fluid through and we’ll see what happens.”

After his examination, Geralt pulled a blanket over the man, checked his vitals again and gave him another dose of morphine. He was starting to look a little drowsy, but his color was slightly better than before, and if his blood pressure hadn’t come up at least his heart rate was a little slower.

“We’re nearly there. Do you have any ID on you?” Geralt asked. “Have a name?”

“ID in the car.” The man hesitated. “I’m Jas.”

“How old are you, Jas?”

“Thirty-one.”

“Okay, Jas. We’re pulling into the hospital. You stay on the stretcher, do not move unless you are told – we’ll do all the work. If they’re ready, we’ll take you straight through to the trauma center, where there are suddenly going to be a lot of people, lights, noise, and things happening. You ready?” 

Jas nodded, and the rear doors of the ambulance opened up. Geralt hooked his equipment onto the side of the stretcher and followed it out. It always made him smile, how smoothly things went when a trauma call came in. An orderly had the doors already open, and waved them through.

Inside, it was much as Geralt had predicted. Once his handover was done, and Jas was safely transferred into the care of the hospital, he approached his patient.

“I’ll try to check in, if we get back here later.”

Jas nodded, and Geralt left to help Esk clean up.

“Coën ,” he said in greeting as he passed the man on the way out. “Need a ride to your car?”

“Nah, it followed me in,” Coën said, jingling his keys as evidence. “Esk working with you tonight?”

Geralt made a face. “No, sadly. She got caught at the end of day shift, better get her home before it really gets busy. Later!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how good, bad or boring this is going SO feed me if you want to hear more <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfasts, teenage Ciri, sleeping, and a definitely unplanned visit.

Geralt checked his watch. Just after one in the morning. He’d delivered Esk back to the branch and picked up Lambert, and they were sent straight out on another call. Eight and a half hours in, and he still hadn’t had a break. The rest of the night, at least, had been more routine. Nursing home, backyard trampoline, pub, short of breath, domestic, another pub. Their last patient was drunk _and_ high, obnoxiously so, and Geralt was happy to see the back of him.

“Time to switch,” Geralt growled at Lambert.

“ _You_ need a _snack_ ,” Lambert said helpfully.

“Grab me something here, would you? I want to follow up on a patient before we go.” He headed into the nurses’ station.

“No Jas here,” she said. “Case number?”

Geralt rattled off a series of digits.

“Julian Pankratz. He went into surgery pretty quick, he’s in ICU now. Uh, note here says… that’s odd. He has a security restriction on visitors, but he asked for the ambos that brought him in to be added.”

“Security restriction?”

“Yeah. I don’t know why, and couldn’t tell you if I did, but generally speaking, some patients have privacy concerns. DV patients for example, usually have one activated, but anyone can request them.”

“Huh. Mind if I put in a call to ICU?”

“Go ahead, extension 428.”

Geralt nodded and made his call. Jas – or Julian – was expected to be in an induced coma in ICU for a day or two, he could check back after that.

“Do you think we’re going to get a break tonight?” Lambert asked, tossing Geralt a large and grainy roll packed with meat and salad. Admittedly, the man was good at finding decently healthy food at impossible hours.

Geralt just raised an eyebrow and pulled himself up into the cabin to wolf down half the roll.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Lambert said, reluctantly pressing the buttons that would signal their availability.

“Eldersea, I think I love you,” came the instant response from the radio, and Lambert groaned.

“Sorry guys, we're three units down and the shit has hit the proverbial fan. Unconscious diabetic, code one. Details on your screen.”

“Eldersea received,” Lambert acknowledged.

“How long left tonight?” he asked Geralt, rubbing his eyes.

“Six hours. Come on, we can fit four, maybe five more patients in at this rate.”

“I’d rather fit in a break,” Lambert grumbled.

When Geralt got home, he dropped his bag just inside the front door in an almost exact duplication of Ciri with her schoolbag. Yenn was already awake, curled up on the sofa in her pyjamas with coffee and a book.

Geralt’s eyes were dark from lack of sleep, his face pale, white hair scruffy. He’d pulled the tie from his hair and it was flowing loose around his shoulders.

“You look like you slept in your uniform. Big night?”

Geralt grunted tiredly.

“Go have a shower, I’ll get you some breakfast.”

“Thanks, Yenn,” he managed, yawning when she put a plate in front of him, still tired but washed clean, somehow, of more than just dirt.

“Wake Ciri when you head up, would you? She’s turning into a teenager.”

Geralt nodded and stumbled up the stairs, knocking on Ciri’s door before heading in. She’d had a growth spurt recently, and her lanky teenage form sprawled across the bed. Geralt shook her foot.

“Rise and shine, princess. It’s time to get up.”

Ciri pulled the covers over her head and groaned. “I want to sleep.”

“Me too. If you don’t get up, you’ll miss dance. Your call.”

Ciri groaned. “Ugh. FINE I’m UP.”

Geralt turned back, expertly dodging the door frame that wasn't where he'd left it. Ciri giggled behind him.

“Damn house is alive,” Geralt grumbled, staggering to his room with all the grace and coordination of an intoxicated kitten. He flopped onto the bed and fell into a deep sleep without even bothering to crawl under the covers.

He woke early afternoon, still feeling the fog of consecutive nights. The first day home was always a write-off. Everything ached. Shower again to clear his head, something to eat and then Ciri would be home. She could spend the night beating him at games while his reaction times were slow. It wouldn’t be long before she could beat him even when he was at his best.

Monday after dropping Ciri at school, Geralt ran a few errands and found himself just a few blocks away from the hospital with a spare hour, so he checked in to see how his patient from the other night was doing.

Awake, and out on the ward on schedule, that was good news. Geralt made his way up to the ward. It felt weird to be wandering around here, out of uniform.

“Forest gods, you’re even hotter than I remembered,” Jas blurted out when Geralt entered the room. “Black suits you.”

Geralt froze, and Jas awkwardly tried to recover. “Sorry, don’t go. Please, I can’t exactly chase you down the corridor like this, and if you leave, I’m _definitely_ going to try.”

Geralt’s yellow eyes went wide, and the other man shrugged.

“You wouldn’t want me to undo everything you did to save me now, would you? Look, I promise not to hit on you – um. I promise to _try_ not to hit on you, if you’ll stay. You’re the first person to visit. Please.”

Geralt nodded, and sat down next to the bed.

“You prefer Jas?” he asked. “Julian is on your file.”

Jas made a face. “Yeah. I don’t use Julian. My family aren’t… in the picture. Really, thank you for coming, I didn’t think you would. I gather it was pretty bad, if you hadn’t been there I might have died.”

Geralt shrugged, uncomfortable with taking credit. “It’s my job. Coën worked the magic that helped you breathe. You’re lucky your lungs were only leaking air, rather than filling up with blood. What else was wrong?”

“Internal bleeding, I’m told my bloodwashing machine was badly enough damaged that I don’t have one any more.”

Geralt tried not to laugh. “Bloodwashing machine?”

“Well, it had a name, started with a P. Or maybe an S?”

“Spleen,” Geralt said helpfully, amusement lighting his eyes at Jaskier’s descriptions.

Jaskier waved his hands. “Whatever. I hope it wasn’t too important. A few other things. Nothing else is broken, just this giant hole in my ribs and some wicked bruises. Superglue on my head, for some reason there’s a hardware store in the supply closet?”

“Medical grade, yeah. Sometimes they use that instead of stitches. I’m glad you’re okay. Do you remember what happened?”

“Yes. No. I mean, honestly I wasn’t paying enough attention to see it happen? I was thinking of a song, and everything sort of all happened at once, and then everything hurt and then a beautiful white wolf with a growly face and kind eyes and a rumbly voice came along, and someone told me not to die, and now I’m here.”

Geralt examined the man in the bed. He was tall, slim and currently quite pale. His hair, free of matted blood, was a rich tawny brown and his eyes were a breathtaking brilliant blue, large enough to drown in.

“Jas, if it’s not too personal… why am I your only visitor so far?”

Jas hesitated. “Why are you asking?” he asked softly, and Geralt sensed caution behind the uncertainty.

“Nobody should have to go through this alone. But… I don’t know you…” Geralt trailed off, not sure how to express his concern.

“You want to make sure I’m not a badly researched medical drama showrunner?”

Geralt’s mouth turned up at one corner. “Something like that.”

Jaskier smiled back. “No. I’m not a serial killer either, although I suppose that’s the sort of thing a serial killer would say. I’m a musician. Visitors… my family all hate me. No, don’t argue, they don’t deserve the waste of energy. They kicked me out at sixteen for being too gay. _Any_ gay was too gay. They weren’t too happy about the music, either. I don’t have many friends, and those I do have aren’t close. It was hard to let people in, after... I didn’t know who to trust, and sometimes I got it wrong. Nobody else is coming.”

“I’m sorry,” Geralt said. “That must have been awful.”

“It is what it is. I made a life. I love my music. I guess I just never really learned how to people. How about you? How did you come to your career?”

“Hmm. I had no idea what I wanted to do after high school. I volunteered doing first aid for events for a while, and once had to call for an ambulance. Something just sort of… clicked. Twelve months later it was my life.”

The small smile Geralt wore told Jas just how much he loved his job, too.

“How about family?”

“A little unconventional. I have a daughter, adopted. When her family died, her godmother and I raised her together. We’re not together, but you know, people tend to make assumptions. No parents, I was abandoned and grew up in the foster system.”

“Uh. Wow, that’s intense. And here you are, all… normal, and well-adjusted and everything.”

Geralt arched an eyebrow, amused. “You don’t know me, yet. I could be anything.”

“Yet,” Jas smiled. “I think I like the sound of that.”

Geralt hummed. “I have to go, but I have tomorrow off if you’d like me to swing by again. Is there anything you need?”

“YES!” Jas cried out, before clutching at his chest. “Oof. That was a bit too enthusiastic.”

A smiled tugged at the corner of Geralt’s mouth. “Was that… yes you need things?”

“Sure, let’s go with that. I’m bored out of my skull, all I can sit here and do all day is doze off and watch terrible hospital tv. They have sixty-five channels of _nothing_ , can you believe. Um. Paper and pens, I might not be able to sing right now but there is music inside me crying to be written. Lined music paper – you can print some off. And – I don’t suppose you have an old guitar laying around gathering dust? Oh, and maybe a book to read.”

“No guitar, but I’ll make sure of the rest. Genre?”

“Fantasy or science fiction, but any fiction will do in a pinch. And if you’re not too macho, some eyeliner. I feel naked without it.”

Geralt nodded and rose to leave, pausing with his hand on the door to look back.

“Thanks for coming, Geralt,” Jas said with a sleepy smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Jaskier this chapter was a lot of fun, I hope the humor comes through ^.^


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt wears his shirt Henry Cavill style, and nobody is sad about it.

Geralt was back at school in time to pick Ciri up and grab a bite to eat together before dropping her off at training. Mondays used to be one of her few quiet nights… his fault, he supposed. She’d always had a passion for dance, but when she was twelve he’d introduced her to some old shows he used to watch and now she was enamored with the idea of a dancing assassin. So she’d pushed for martial arts classes as well, and there went Mondays. He had enough time to hit the gym for a workout before picking her up again.

Back home, Yenn was sprawled on the couch with a glass of wine, music in the background, reading again. She looked up in annoyance when they slammed the door open.

“Welcome home you pair of uncultured oafs, DO NOT track mud across the floor!”

Ciri kicked off her shoes and raced upstairs, while Geralt dumped groceries onto the counter and started working on dinner.

“Half an hour,” he said, when Yenn put her book down and joined him. She poured him a glass.

“How was your day, Yenn?”

“Interesting. I spotted _you_. You stopped by, and didn’t say hello?”

Geralt looked at her in surprise. “You work in Emerg. What were you doing upstairs?”

“Checking on a patient. You?”

“Same.”

“On a day off.”

“He just got out of ICU, I was in the area.”

“He?”

“Problem? What’s with the third degree?”

“Look, if you’re finally going to start dating after finding issue with everyone I’ve tried to set you up with in the history of ever, I’m not going to interfere.”

“Yenn! I was just following up,” Geralt said. It was a point of pride for him, to some extent. He wasn’t content to assume a job had been well done. He regularly checked on patient outcomes, trying to find flaws in his assessment and management, things that could be improved on. In field assessments were limited to far more basic tools and equipment than the hospital got to rely on, and Geralt used every opportunity he could to broaden his knowledge and skills. 

“Nothing that couldn’t have waited until next time you showed up, or dealt with through an email. Are you going back?”

Geralt hesitated.

“Fuck,” he said, and Yenn smirked.

“Hmmm. I might have to look in on this sparkling gem that’s piqued your interest. When are you going back?”

Geralt winced. “Tomorrow.”

Yenn’s eyes lit up, and her shoulders shook with silent laughter.

“ _And_ , I need to ask a favor. He hasn’t had any other visitors. He doesn’t have family. I offered to take a few things in, something to read, but – he asked for some make-up. Eyeliner, if you have something you can throw my way?”

“Ciri’s a better bet with all her dance gear, but I’m _telling_ her first.”

“Yenn!”

“Oh, come on, she’s going to get as much of a kick out of this as I am.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Geralt complained. “Fine, have your fun but I’m putting chilli in your pasta.”

“No you’re not, Ciri would murder you in your sleep.”

Geralt sighed. She was right, of course. It was an empty threat; he wouldn’t even do that to Yenn. He didn’t mind the teasing, not really. He loved them both, his life was full, busy. He didn’t _need_ anyone else. Still…

He glanced at the table. Yenn had set four plates.

“Oh. Great. Triss is coming over too? Yenn, I don’t even know there’s something there yet, I’m not going to rush into this! There isn’t even a ‘this’ to rush into! Can we keep her out of this for now?”

“Geralt, I’m not a monster. They’d roast you alive.”

“So will you and Ciri.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I’d let anyone else.”

Just then the front door opened and Triss pushed the door open with the same noisy lack of decorum as Geralt and Ciri.

“I’m surrounded by ruffians,” Yennefer complained.

Geralt arched an eyebrow. “You chose this one, all by yourself. Voluntarily,” he reminded her.

“Yes, but you wouldn’t _believe_ what she can do with her tongue –”

“Ah!” Geralt waved a spatula at her. “Nope! Don’t need to know. How am I supposed to work with your girlfriend if… just _don’t go there_.”

“I’m surprised you don’t already know, she’s not shy about it.”

“Thank you, I prefer to keep sex lives and work separate.”

“ _You’re the one dating a patient_.”

“We’re not dating, and he stopped being _my_ patient the moment he became _yours_ ,” Geralt retorted, and then he paused.

“Fuck. Triss is working with Esk. I’m done, I’m going...”

“So, Geralt,” Triss interrupted, entering the room. “Esk had a funny story about your patient the other day.”

“Ohhhkay, you two have your fun, I’m taking my plate somewhere you both aren’t,” Geralt said, ladling pasta and sauce into a pair of bowls with a hurried lack of finesse in his rush to escape.

Yenn poured a glass of wine for Triss. “ _Do_ tell,” she insisted, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

Triss was staring at Geralt, surprised at his abrupt manner, contrasting so vividly with Yenn’s amusement.

“Don’t mind him, I’ve been teasing him and he’s afraid you’ll make him blush.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Bye,” he said, picking up the bowls and making his exit. On his way out, he dimmed the lights, and Yenn hid a smile. Between Triss’s kids, Ciri, and clashing work schedules, time together was scarce.

Geralt set their plates on the dining table and called Ciri down.

“Are we eating here?” she asked. “What happened to –”

“Triss is over, and Yenn’s decided I’m target practice for her sense of humor. I thought we’d let them have some privacy.”

“Oh. Okay. More game night?”

“Homework done?”

“Mostly. I need a break, just set a timer so we don’t lose track of time again.”

“Okay. Ciri, would you happen to have some eyeliner I can… borrow?”

“For?”

“Special request from someone I’m going to see at the hospital. Care package, of sorts. I checked in on a patient today, and… he doesn’t have anyone coming to visit.”

“He?” Ciri asked, arching a curious eyebrow.

“You too?” Geralt grumbled. “I don’t have to… would everyone be so interested if he was woman?”

“He’s not a woman though. Dad, I just want you to be happy. So does Yenn.”

“I know kid, but it’s not like that. We’ve barely even met. Go easy, okay?”

Ciri nodded. “I’ll fetch it now so I don’t forget. I have some things I don’t use, he can keep them.”

Ciri returned with a pouch, and to Geralt’s relief, didn’t mention it again.

The next morning, Geralt dropped Ciri off at school and hit the gym again before heading to the hospital.

Someone else was already present in the small room. Not hospital staff. A person Jas didn’t seem happy to see, and there was palpable tension in the air. Jas’s eyes lit up when Geralt walked in. His skin held a little more colour today, his face a little less drawn with pain.

“I said no,” Jas was saying. “The hospital has a protocol, _use it_. If you want to help, find me a guitar. You’re just leaving,” he said to the man.

The man turned to face Geralt, looking him up and down with disdain.

“Who is this?”

“A none of your business.”

“Is – Jas, is everything okay?” Geralt asked, looking between the two of them with concern.

“Everything is fine. He’s _leaving_.”

Geralt stepped out of the doorway, holding it open, and the man left with a glare. Geralt closed it, carefully placing his bag on the table. Jas had closed his eyes, one hand fisted in his mouth in an effort to control his ragged breathing.

“Hey,” Geralt said, reaching out a hand in concern. “Breathe, Jas. Slowly. Focus. You don’t need this right now. You get too upset, your pain is going to…”

“I know. I’m trying.”

“What was that? If it’s someone who shouldn’t be here, I can…”

Jaskier reached out an arm. “No. He’s… I don’t know. He wants to make decisions for me, make demands from the hospital. He thinks he’s advocating, but if he pisses everyone off here, I’m the one they’ll take it out on.”

“He upset you.”

Jas looked at Geralt, and nodded. “I don’t like it when people try to make decisions for me.”

“Will a distraction help?” Geralt asked, sitting carefully on the side of the bed so as not to jostle, and handing over Ciri’s pouch.

Jas opened it, smiling as he poked around inside.

“Someone’s a genius. There’s even a mirror. Did you pack this?”

“My daughter.”

Jas pulled out a scrap of paper, and Geralt frowned.

Jas grinned, passing the paper to Geralt. “It seems you have a protector, and I’m not to break your heart.”

Geralt closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose in long-suffering resignation.

 _My dad likes you. If you fuck it up, I will come for you,_ the note read. There was a roughly sketched picture of a girl in a tutu, wearing combat boots and a threatening expression, pulling a sword from a scabbard strapped to her back.

“She must like me, she’s already making me art,” Jas said with a chuckle he immediately regretted, clutching at his chest. When his breathing eased again, he took Geralt’s hand and looked into his eyes, his pale face serious.

“Look, now that it’s out there. Yes, I like what I see, I think I’ve made that obvious. But I also… I also think I like _you_. Enough to want to get to know you better. We hardly know each other at all, yet. You seem cautious, and I have enough baggage to sink a Titanic. There’s no rush.”

Geralt let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

“You know, you might want to try not to breathe too deep either, that button looks like it’s ready to make a run for it,” Jas pointed out. “Your shirt’s a size too small, do you do that on purpose?”

“Small? Every time I try to go for a larger size, a salesperson talks me out of it!”

“Oh, you dear thing. You’re so stacked, they’d probably like nothing more than to see the seams spontaneously disintegrate when you flex. Did you really not notice?”

Geralt shook his head wordlessly, and Jas squeezed his hand.

“What else have you brought?” Jas asked, eyeing the bag.

Geralt pulled out a couple of books and an e-reader. “I thought… I can hardly bring dozens of books in for you to choose from, so I grabbed a couple of my own favorites and – about half of what’s on here is medical, but there’s a library of other stuff too. You can add whatever you want, if it’s not to your taste.”

Jas’s eyes went wide. “Geralt – are you sure? It’s very generous of you, and you don’t know me. What if I were to just run off with all this stuff?”

“Then I’ll have learned something, won’t I?” Geralt asked dryly.

“I guess so.”

“Paper, pens, pencil and an eraser in the bag. When are you allowed out of bed?”

“I can take short walks now. Get myself to the bathroom and such. Not much more than that yet.”

“Wheelchair?” Geralt asked.

“I think so.” Jas was already bored with the standard hospital fare, and one of the nurses had recommended the cafeteria. “Do you think we could flee this chicken coop and get something edible for lunch?”

“Sure.”

“Sounds like… a not-date,” Jas said with a sleepy smile. “Fuck, I’m going to fall asleep again. I can’t seem to stay awake for more than a few hours. Rude of me.”

“No, Jas, you need to rest,” Geralt replied, “I can keep myself busy. I’ll leave you my number, just text me when you wake up.”

Geralt squeezed Jas’s hand, waiting until his breathing deepened before quietly making his exit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO FRIENDS I do have a direction for this but it might take a little while to hash out properly. I hope you enjoy this chapter (:


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coffee, lunch, and the asshole from this morning.

Geralt wound his way down to the emergency department to find Yenn. The place was buzzing with more noise than usual, and there were extra security staff.

“Got time for a break?” Geralt asked her, inclining his head toward the buzzing waiting room.

“Yep, today’s chaos isn’t my problem. Media got wind of a celebrity guest who by all reports is making a legion of demands. Security are ramping up to keep press and fans from interfering. Give me ten minutes and I’ll meet you in the café.”

Geralt wandered off and ordered for both of them. It was a familiar routine: Geralt found a seat in a corner, and Yenn breezed in just as their coffees were set down on the table.

“Your patient?” Geralt asked, and Yenn waved a hand.

“No, they’re not even in emergency as far as I know. Nobody tells us anything. How’s your new friend?”

“In good spirits. Ciri managed to slip a note in with her make-up…”

Yenn chuckled. “She’s always one step ahead of you.”

Geralt grunted, but his eyes were smiling. “He didn’t take it badly. How is your day going?”

Their conversation drifted to the usual topics, until Yenn’s pager activated.

“No rest for the wicked,” Geralt said.

Yenn sighed. “Thanks for the coffee, G. I’ll see you tonight.”

Geralt slowly wound his way back to the ward, and security staff were popping up everywhere. Back at Jas’s ward, he was denied entry. A minute later, a text came through.

 _They won’t let me back in_ , Geralt replied. _Security everywhere out here_.

 _Fuck. Hang on,_ a message came back.

Another minute, and one of the nursing staff opened the door. “Put him on the list,” he said to the guard, pointing at Geralt.

The security guard tried to argue, but the nurse refused to be cowed. “Patients _do_ have rights, list or not,” he insisted.

There was another guard at Jas’s door, but this one waved him through.

Geralt walked in to a visibly distressed Jas on the phone. Wet eyes stared at Geralt, and a hand beckoned him over. He spoke quietly, but it was obvious from his tone that he was furious.

“You don’t get to ignore my instructions because you think you know best, you’re not _helping_. Valdo, you just went and did the exact opposite of what I asked. I can’t do this any more. As soon as my contract is up, we’re done. Stop acting on my behalf.”

Jas winced as the caller at the other end hung up on him, and Geralt moved close, standing by the bed, holding an arm out.

Jas took his hand, pressing his head against’ Geralt’s chest. Jas clutched at his own as irregular breathing increased his pain, and Geralt hit the button for the nurse.

Geralt held him, talked him through breathing, slow, regular, until the nurse came in.

“I’m okay,” he said, turning to the nurse. “I’m sorry for the chaos, it wasn’t my doing. Can you please ask the nurse in charge to come and see me, when they have a minute? And don’t let Valdo Marx anywhere near me, remove him from the security list. If you can keep him out of the hospital, even better.”

“I’ll take care of it,” the nurse said. “Do you need more pain relief?”

Jas shook his head. “It’s easing again.”

“Let me check your injuries then, make sure you haven’t popped any stitches or broken open a wound.”

“I think I’m okay,” Jas said, lying back on the bed, keeping a firm hold of Geralt’s hand.

“You want to tell me what this is?” Geralt asked when the nurse left.

“Not really,” Jas muttered.

“Fucking Valdo, is what this is. Everything was fine until he got involved, nobody even knew I was here. When nobody from the hospital leaked it, he went and dropped it to the fucking media for sympathy points and now… this fucking mess. This morning I asked him to liaise with the hospital regarding their security procedures and instead he threw his weight around like the obnoxious fucking human he is, _and_ he had the audacity to revoke you from my visitor’s list against my will, without my consent, deliberately, _spitefully_ , and I am _fucking furious_.”

“Is that the friend who was here this morning?” Geralt asked.

“Yes, but that man is _not_ my friend,” Jas said firmly. “As soon as I can arrange it, he won’t be my manager, either. I’m sorry you got caught up in this mess, Geralt. You’re…”

“Why didn’t you say something?” Geralt asked.

“Because you’re _real_. You didn’t know who I was and I liked that. I knew that wouldn’t last long, but everyone around me… I never know who I can trust, that’s how I ended up caught in Valdo’s net. I just wanted a chance to get to know you without that hanging over our heads. People always want things from me, access to fame, money, or they have some unrealistic _idea_ of me and are disappointed when I don’t live up to it. It’s been a long time since someone cared about me, just… for me. You went out of your way to help. You were kind, thoughtful, generous, even without knowing anything about me. Without expecting anything back.”

“I still don’t know who you are,” Geralt pointed out.

“Jaskier. It’s Jas, or Jask for short. Take your pick.”

“Okay. I _still_ don’t know who you are,” Geralt admitted. “But all this fuss… I don’t know, maybe I can relate, a little. You want to know what drew me back here, after yesterday?”

“What?” Jaskier asked.

“You were interested in _me_ , not my work. You never asked the question everybody asks. ‘ _What’s the worst thing you’ve ever seen?’_ My job is glamorized. It’s not fame, the press only stalk us intermittently, and it’s rarely about _us_. Thankfully. It must be hard, dealing with that all the time. I still get to leave the house as a bog standard citizen.”

Jaskier winced. “I apologize for the trial by fire.”

“That’s not your fault. Do you still want to head out for lunch, or would you like me to bring something back?”

“Frankly, right now I don’t want to let you out of my sight again, for a bit. I don’t want a repeat. _Can_ we go out? Without causing a fuss?”

“Perhaps. There’s a more secluded staff cafeteria as well as the regular one, it’s off limits to the media and general public, and there’s a service elevator we might be able to use to get there. I’ll talk to the nurse in charge when she gets here. While we wait, why don’t we see what’s in Ciri’s bag of tricks. I had to learn to do her make-up for dance competitions when she was younger. She does it all herself now, but I still remember how. If you want, I can...?”

Jaskier stared at him without answering.

“No?” Geralt asked.

“No! I mean, yes!” Jaskier said. “I mean. Please, yes. I’m still weak, and a little shaky, I just – you surprise me, that’s all. A nice surprise, you look so… very _masculine_.”

Geralt arched an eyebrow.

“Right, fine, that was sexist, I’m just going to stop talking now. Actually, probably I’m not. If I can’t stop talking while I’m dying of a hole in my chest and all my unwashed blood running away, I’m hardly going to stop out of a little embarrassment.”

Geralt lowered his voice to a gravelly growl, and if he wasn’t smiling, it would have sounded like a threat. “I also braid hair.”

An hour later Geralt wheeled a chair loaded with IV pumps and a tall, pale man in a hospital gown over to a quiet table in the staff cafeteria.

“This is… _nice_ ,” Jaskier said in surprise.

“The power of a union. Surprising nobody, a proper break in a calm environment leaves you more productive than chaos and clatter.”

“Huh. So we’re invading a sacred space.”

“Sort of. Special circumstances. The staff won’t mind, as long as we don’t disturb their peace.” Geralt looked up just as Yenn walked through the door.

“Uh oh,” he muttered. “Brace yourself, trouble’s coming.”

“Geralt, why are you up here? I thought you were…” Yenn trailed off, as she noticed the man wearing a hospital gown and a smile, sitting in a wheelchair. “…visiting a patient.”

“Yenn, this is…”

“Jaskier. You’re the celebrity everyone is complaining about,” Yenn said.

“That wasn’t me. My manager – my _ex-manager_ – is an asshole. I’m sorry, I was hoping to just fly under the radar, honestly. I don’t like attention. I mean, I do, but not this sort of attention, and I hate that he’s caused so much drama.”

“You didn’t say he was famous,” Yenn accused Geralt.

Geralt’s eyebrows drew together in a frown. “Yenn, I didn’t _know_ until a couple of hours ago.”

“Oh, that I can believe. Ciri is going to _flip_.”

“Wait,” Jaskier interrupted, glancing anxiously at Geralt before sitting up as tall as he could manage in a wheelchair. “ _Stop_. You’re not being fair.”

Yenn rounded on Jaskier, her eyes narrowing.

“Not to me,” Jaskier said, putting his hands up in defense. “ _To Geralt_. Don’t push him into this, he only just found out what he’s in for, if – _if_ we start dating. I like him, yes. Rather a lot, as it happens, but I wouldn’t… my life is…”

“I wouldn’t press _anyone_ to take this on. Especially not someone with a kid. Look at him, he’s terrified. Just _being seen with me_ could upend his whole world, you lose anonymity, privacy, control over your own… fucking… _recovery_.”

Jaskier closed his eyes. “I’m sorry, Geralt. I should never have dragged you into this.”

“Jaskier, you didn’t. Stop talking,” Geralt said, before rounding on Yennefer. “Yenn, butt the fuck out. I’m not rushing head first into anything, but now is ten thousand percent _not_ the time or the place. I brought him here for a decent meal and a dose of sunshine, not a lecture, and it was the only place he could go without being accosted by crowds, and this is the _third fucking time_ today he’s had to exercise his injured lungs standing up to someone, and he’s only two days out of ICU. Back off.”

Yenn took a step back. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Jaskier, I apologize. I’ve been high on the idea of Geralt… I got carried away. I’ll leave you to your meal. G, I finish at three. If you like, I’ll take Ciri duty, give you some time.”

Geralt nodded and turned back to Jaskier. “Sorry. She can be a… firecracker.”

“She cares about you,” Jaskier said, a wistful note in his voice.

Geralt nodded. “We can talk about it later. Take a breath, Jas. Today has been a rollercoaster. Let’s just enjoy the food, the sun, the company, without worrying about the rest of the world. Do you want to see what’s on offer for yourself, or…?”

Jaskier closed his eyes and took a careful breath in. “I can smell something. Some kind of casserole, it’s wafting.”

Geralt pushed the chair outside to a table in the sun of a small, enclosed courtyard. “Wait here.”

By the time Geralt returned Jaskier back to his room, he was dozing off again. Geralt pushed the wheelchair brakes on and moved to help Jaskier up, but he was too drowsy to help. His head kept rolling down onto his chest, and Geralt squeezed his hand.

“Jas, I need to get you out of this chair and back into bed. If you can’t do it yourself, will you let me help?”

“mmmk,” Jas murmered back, and Geralt scooped him up in both arms. Jaskier’s head nestled on his shoulder, and one hand rose to press on Geralt’s chest. His drowsy face was free of the tension that had marred it earlier, and Geralt felt something tug at his heart. Jaskier was an armful, lean but tall, and despite Geralt’s strength, he had to take care not to jostle him when he placed him back on the bed. Jaskier winced, his breath catching, and he moved to reposition himself before Geralt pulled the blanket over him.

“Ger’lt,” he whispered, eyes opening a fraction and one hand reaching to the edge of the bed. “Can you stay?”

“I can stay,” Geralt nodded, sitting in the chair next to the bed and taking Jaskier’s hand in his. Jaskier sighed, burying his head in the pillow before drifting into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck that Valdo guy, honestly. I don't like him already.
> 
> Ok, this is probably going to slow down a bit. I know where it's going, but filling in the details is taking longer. It's coming, though! Please feed my comments, they're hungry! <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay! I'm really sorry this took so long, a combination of mental blocks, being actually sick and adding a chapter. I'm aware that it's not the greatest, but I've been struggling to get anything out at all so it's progression at least.

It was another week before Jaskier was released from hospital, and lacking a plan that didn’t involve the manager he refused to have any more to do with, he reluctantly asked Geralt for help. Jaskier was in high spirits, beaming when Geralt walked into the room.

“Look, I’m not plugged into anything!” he said, the smile on his face reaching his brilliant blue eyes. “The nurse said I can go whenever I’m ready. Did you bring clothes?”

Geralt dropped a bag on the bed. “Everything but shoes, there’s a pair of slippers instead. It was too hard to guess at a size.”

“I need to go shopping, there won’t be anything edible left in my fridge.”

“Get it delivered,” Geralt countered. “You still need to heal.”

“I _need_ to get outside in the open, out of this shoebox.”

“Jask, when I said I’d spend the day with you, I meant doing something _quiet_.”

“Come on,” Jaskier said, picking up the bag of clothes Geralt had left on the bed and heading for the door. “A walk in the park won’t hurt. The breathing people said I have to start doing stuff.”

Geralt stuck his arm out, bringing Jaskier to a halt. Jaskier looked at him in surprise.

“Forgetting something?” he asked, dropping his eyes to indicate the hospital gown Jaskier was still wearing.

Jaskier huffed impatiently, but turned back to the bed. Geralt quietly exited the room to wait for him outside. When Jaskier reappeared, his eyes were shining and he gave Geralt’s hand a squeeze.

“That was… harder than I expected. Thanks for the slippers. I couldn’t have managed socks, or shoelaces…”

Geralt looked into Jaskier’s bright blue eyes. “Is the pain ok? Do you have a script?”

Jaskier grimaced. “More opiates. No thank you, I’d rather stick with over the counter stuff. I hardly used the morphine pump when I had the option, hard drugs scare me.”

“It’s not really the same as recreational use, you don’t have to suffer if you’re in pain,” Geralt said.

“I know that. It’s my choice, Geralt.” The words were firm, but Jaskier dropped his gaze, as if the confidence were a façade.

“It is,” Geralt agreed, remembering Jaskier’s frustration over Valdo’s interference during his first days in hospital, and let it go.

Jaskier looked surprised, as if he’d been ready for an argument. “It is?”

Geralt tilted his head, giving Jaskier a quizzical look. “Of course. I’m not going to try to make decisions for you. I think it’s important to be informed, but… choices about you belong to you.”

Jaskier went quiet, and Geralt gripped his arm briefly. “Jask, this seems… personal. You trusted the hospital staff, so I’m guessing there have been people in your personal life who took that away from you, but I don’t need to know anything you’re not ready to tell me. Whatever shit you went through that has you questioning that, I hope you can trust that there are _also_ people who will do the right thing.”

Jaskier’s mind raced for a minute before coming in to land. “You must be a good dad,” was what he landed on.

Geralt’s eyebrows arched, and Jaskier smiled briefly. “The inside of my head is chaos and disorder, the path it took to come to that conclusion was…” he gestured vaguely. “You seem like the kind of dad who would give a kid all the information they need, and then let them go ahead and make their own mistakes. You just… showed me I could trust you, without expecting me to. Again. So I want to. Gods, I really am all kinds of fucked up. Can we go out for lunch?”

Geralt smiled at the sudden change in direction. “If you want. Let’s see how you go getting down to the car first. It’s more exercise than you’ve done all week.”

Jaskier, craving fresh air and sunshine, directed Geralt to a park with a lake and a small café. He was confident that, even if he was seen, he probably wouldn’t be recognized in his current state of disrepair. When they got there, he all but skipped through the gardens toward the café, leaving the path to walk along the grass, stopping to admire flowers and trees on the way. He couldn’t help but let his fingers brush against Geralt’s from time to time as they walked. His enthusiasm was infectious, and Geralt let him take the lead with a smile. By the time they reached the café, Jaskier was out of breath.

Despite a long rest with lunch and a slow, easy walk back to the car, Jaskier was struggling before they were half way.

“I’m sorry,” he said, sweat shining on his brow. His legs were starting to shake, and he gripped Geralt’s sleeve tightly for balance. “I thought… I guess a week and a half made me weaker than I realised.”

Geralt knelt in front of him. “Climb on.”

Jaskier draped himself across Geralt’s back, wrapping his arms around Geralt’s neck. His long legs dangled down well past Geralt’s knees, and Jaskier buried his face in long white hair. Geralt stood slowly and walked with an even pace, careful not to bump. The unusual sight caught a few curious glances as they passed people.

“They’re looking at you, Superman,” Jaskier teased. “Honestly, you’re a… a sight. You’d stand out even if you weren’t carrying another man around.”

“Jealous you’re not getting all the attention?” Geralt asked with a chuckle.

“No,” Jaskier replied, his tone serious. “Grateful. It’s nice not to be recognized all the time, nicer still that I don’t even have to worry about it today. I hardly recognized _myself_ in the mirror this morning.”

Geralt delivered Jaskier to the car and helped him in. Like second nature, he applied all the skills he’d learned driving a box of an ambulance with far too little suspension to give Jaskier the smoothest ride he could reasonably coerce out of his small car.

Jaskier’s home was in a quiet part of the city, and turned out to be part of a secluded network of buildings that cleverly interlocked to give each resident outdoor space and privacy from each other.

“Modern by necessity rather than choice,” Jaskier said, directing him to a secure underground car park. “Security and privacy, etcetera. Unfortunately, someone went and invented drones so outside is never a guarantee, but nobody can see through the windows even without the curtains drawn. You’re safe inside.”

Jaskier led the way to a flight of stairs and looked at Geralt in consternation. Geralt bent his knee again, and waited for Jaskier’s weight to settle on his back. It was just a little further down a short path to Jaskier’s front door, and Jaskier fumbled his keypass, dropping it on the ground. Geralt soon had him settled on a sofa.

“Jaskier. You’re wrecked. It’s going to get easier, but until you can look after yourself properly, can you organize for a nurse or someone to stay and help you?”

Jaskier went still. “No,” he whispered, his forehead creasing in distress.

Geralt watched him, worry creasing his brow.

“I don’t want somebody else in my _space_ ,” Jaskier finally said, interpreting Geralt’s frown as displeasure with his response. “I don’t cope with it, I have to… I feel like I have to try and act more normal around normal people, _and I don’t know what that is_. It’s hard work…” he trailed off, not really sure how to explain, afraid, again, of having his needs overridden by his own inability to stand up for the things he needed without worrying he sounded whiny, without having to put his needs aside to keep someone else’s expectations happy.

“Jask, it’s okay. You don’t owe me explanations. You’re allowed to make decisions for yourself. It was just a suggestion to make things easier for you. Honestly, I’d really like to punch the whoever did this to you right about now.”

Jaskier couldn’t help it. His eyes started to brim with tears, and Geralt pulled him carefully into a hug. Jaskier felt like a miserable failure for his lack of control. “I’m sorry,” he hiccoughed into Geralt’s shoulder.

“Real men cry,” Geralt said, gentle but firm. “Besides, you're exhausted. I _know_ you know stereotypes and toxic ideals are stupid. Let it go, Jask. I’m not going anywhere.

“Have to stop. Chest still hurts,” Jaskier complained.

Geralt loosened his grip instantly. “Sorry, did I…?”

“No, it’s the… too much with the breathing. Crying, laughing. Feels like razorblades tearing through my chest. Will the hole you put there leave a scar?”

“I didn’t put it there,” Geralt reminded him.

“I’d rather think of it that way, if it’s all the same to you. A reminder of how we met.”

“Look, I’d leave you to rest, but you still need food and I don’t know how you get deliveries here, but you’re obviously not up to anything more strenuous than sleep right now. Why don’t I go pick up some things for dinner for you, supplies for a few days until I can get back and check on you.”

“I think I’m too tired to argue,” Jaskier said, giving Geralt his keypass and some cash. “Here. Just let yourself back in.”

Geralt looked about to object to the funds, but Jaskier interrupted him. “Don’t make me argue with you, the food is for me. Now, I don’t mean to be forward by asking you to explore my underwear drawer, but… I could really do with your help. Everything I need is on this level except my bedroom, and I’m not ready to do stairs on my own. There’s a guest room down here I can use, but I need clothes from upstairs. And the book from my table…”

Jaskier was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, and Geralt left quietly. He returned a couple of hours later, armed with enough supplies to prepare meals for a few days, as well as easy but healthy pre-prepared and frozen options. Grinning to himself, Geralt got to work in the kitchen, putting together a vegetable-loaded meatloaf, a tray with a small roast and vegetables that Jaskier could put in the oven to cook without any preparation, a vegetable soup and enough of a pasta dish for several meals that could be refrigerated or frozen.

When Jaskier woke, it was to some rather tantalizing smells, and he came to sit in the kitchen and watch Geralt work.

“Jask, if you’re up to it, there’s something I want to talk about.”

Jaskier’s face ran a gamut of emotion before settling on tense resignation.

“I’m sorry, that sounded like a ‘we need to talk’. I just want to make sure we’re on the same page with taking things slow, okay? There’s a few things that might be… complicating this situation...”

Nevertheless, unable to keep some of the panic he felt from showing in his eyes, Jaskier waited, but it was a while before Geralt could organize his thoughts enough to speak.

“Look, I don’t do this,” he finally whispered. “I’ve only had a couple of serious relationships, and I’ve never fallen for someone so quickly. It scares me. And I want you to be able to trust me and that will take time, but I also want time to go slow while I manage my own fear. I don’t like feeling out of control. I’d like to be able to build a friendship with you before we take things any further.”

“I’m more sort of… the type to dive head first into boiling water without checking the temperature,” Jaskier said, grinning. “Which… is probably why I keep getting burned. This is different. You have a family to protect, and I don’t want to pull you into this life on a whim either.”

“Thank you,” Geralt said. “So. What now?”

Jaskier had an idea, but it was so domestic, so ordinary, that he hesitated to voice it. There were so many things he had missed out on, when he was younger. A family he’d walked on eggshells around his whole life. Before he’d been kicked out of home, he had joined a role-playing group at school, and for a brief few months, the weekly escape into that fantasy life had been one of the few positives in his life.

“Jas?” Geralt asked, drawing Jaskier back to the present.

“Game night,” Jaskier said. “Or just… I’m sorry, this is too silly, it’s too soon to invite myself into your family like that, I’m sorry.”

“You want to just… waste your Friday nights sitting in domestic obscurity… playing Monopoly?” Geralt asked with eyebrows raised.

“Now who’s the one relying on stereotypes?” Jaskier retorted, waving his hand at a glass-fronted cabinet. “Sort of more… Monopoly on steroids.”

Geralt opened the door and looked inside. The shelves were haphazardly stacked with tabletop and role-playing games. Various editions of Dungeons and Dragons, Shadowrun, other systems that Geralt had never heard of.

“Yes,” Geralt said, before Jaskier could discredit his own idea any further. Although he’d never played games like this before, it was more due to lack of opportunity than lack of interest. His own book collection favored fantasy, and even included a few books set in the Shadowrun universe, and Yenn had also been slowly picking her way through his collection. Ciri was less of a reader, but she did gravitate more to console games with immersive storylines.

“I can ask the others,” Geralt said. “Yenn’s girlfriend too, I guess?”

“Fortnightly would be good, for something like this?” Jaskier asked, sounding so unsure of himself that Geralt wanted to hug him again. And so it happened that Saturday nights, whenever Geralt wasn’t working, Jaskier joined them. If Yenn and Triss were around, Jaskier ran a tabletop game. If numbers were short, they would do something else – play console games, watch a movie, cook together or just hang out. Jaskier slid into their lives so seamlessly that Geralt wondered how he hadn’t noticed the hole that must have been there before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter wasn't originally intended, thanks to OrigamiPrincess for the prompt. It helps bridge the gap to the next chapter rather than just skipping ahead six months, and Jaskier overdoing things is just EXACTLY what Jaskier would do. Although I haven't written it in, I also expect he'd start climbing stairs and spending a day making music far too soon and wear himself out in the first week home, too. Did he learn from today? No, of course he did not.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy it despite my difficulties banging words together this last week or two. Future chapters are also going to be a bit slow, there's a plan there but the writing is clipping along at the speed of a drunken snail. xxx
> 
> Edit: ok, this is an embarrassing admission. Shadowrun =/= Shadowhunters, whooooops. I was actually first introduced to Shadowrun via the books, so I'm hanging my head in absolute shame right now, and have corrected the oversight.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 6 months later.

For six months, they both put any further ideas of romance on hold, and Jaskier had joined Geralt and his family at home most Saturday evenings. It was almost uncanny how quickly they became used to his presence, how easily he got along with everyone.

Geralt felt like he was living in a dream, as if his entire life had just spun very slightly on its axis. Work became less all-consuming, easier for him to leave behind at the end of a shift, the end of a week. Instead of turning over cases, overthinking, analyzing, striving for a level of perfection that didn’t exist, his mind turned more and more frequently to the sweet blue-eyed musician that had made a place in his heart. He found himself more relaxed, less irritable. More to the point, _Eskel_ found him less irritable, and told him so in no uncertain terms.

“You’re… _smiling_ ,” she had said, when he greeted her one day at shift changeover, and wouldn’t let up until he told her why.

Even Lambert was suddenly less irritating, and Geralt was starting to think that perhaps that it wasn’t that Lambert was lazy, but rather just… more _relaxed_ than he was. He started to wonder if their personality clash was more to do with him, than with Lambert.

Tonight, Yenn was working late. Geralt, Ciri and Jaskier were home, and Jaskier bantered with Ciri over dinner while Geralt sat quietly, just watching them. Every now and then, Jaskier would glance over at Geralt, as if checking to make sure he was still there, still real, his face relaxing into a soft smile when he made eye contact. Like clockwork, Geralt felt his breath catch in response.

Geralt moved to clear up after dinner, putting a plate for Yenn in the fridge for later and stacking the dishwasher, frowning as he sorted it in his mind like an interlocking puzzle. He paused for a moment, wondering why he put so much mental effort into stacking dishes. He did the same thing packing a suitcase, organizing a schedule, a shelf, structuring his plan to manage a patient, he realized with a flash of insight. Constantly trying to improve, to do better. Competing with himself? Yenn certainly didn’t put this sort of effort into things she deemed unimportant.

Finishing up, he put those thoughts aside for later and returned to the living area. Ciri was painting Jaskier’s nails, dotting them with small yellow flowers. He leaned on the doorframe to watch, shaking his head at how impossibly domestic it all was. Jaskier looked up to see him watching and smiled, catching his lower lip in his teeth.

“Hold still,” Ciri scolded, blowing on his nails until she was satisfied they were dry enough to let him loose. She packed up her supplies and promptly excused herself to spend the rest of her night chatting to friends. _Giving us some time alone_ , Geralt thought. They had placed quite a burden on her young shoulders, keeping Jaskier a secret from her friends. She had shrugged it off, having grown up in dance circles, she was already aware that even famous people were still human. Nobody would believe her without evidence anyway, but Geralt had also instilled in her a strong sense of compassion for people’s differences, and for their privacy. He wasn’t sure he could take credit for her moral code, but he was proud of it nevertheless.

“She likes that I dislike gender norms,” Jaskier said as Geralt pulled him to his feet.

“So do I.” Geralt kept his fingers loosely entwined with Jaskier’s. An outwardly calm demeanor belied his racing heart. “Do you think we’ve waited long enough?”

Jaskier tensed up and swallowed, looking away. Geralt raised a hand to his cheek, barely touching, and Jaskier leaned into it with a soft sigh.

“Jas, I care about you, and you seem happy when you’re here. Content. I don’t think you’d still be coming over, if it didn’t mean something to you too. Talk to me.”

“It’s everything. Sometimes, everything is… too much.” Jaskier took a step in to Geralt’s arms, seeking reassurance.

“I want this more than anything, but I’m scared. You feel like home, the home I never had. I’m afraid it will be taken away from me again, that I don’t deserve it, that you’ll decide the exposure, the scrutiny, the media attention is too much. I’m afraid of needing you, and – and I’m afraid that’s already too late. And I know, I can be rather a lot. At times. And you. You’re just so… beautiful, and good, and silent, and I… sometimes it’s just. Too much.”

They were almost the same height, and Geralt had to stretch a little to kiss Jaskier’s forehead. He held his hands on Jaskier’s hips, not too tight, giving him the option to escape if he needed to. What he really wanted to do was cocoon the man in his arms, protect him from everything that had ever hurt him.

When he’d first met Jaskier, he had expected more problems trying to balance his own responsibilities against the scheduling, the demands, the drama that must come with his career. He knew that Jaskier still worried that Marx might retaliate, worried that Geralt and his family would be caught in the crossfire. He wouldn’t be able to keep this time capsule going forever, but for now… he had underestimated how much Jaskier needed this. _Family_. It was harder to convince Jaskier that he was worth it.

And he _was_ worth it. Jaskier twisted himself into a pretzel, shielding them all from his other life. His care had caught Geralt unprepared, sent his heart further along on its determined journey to lose itself to a star. _Jaskier_.

He tilted Jaskier’s chin up with his fingers. “May I kiss you?”

Jaskier looked at him, frowning as his mind tried to work out how Geralt had leapt from Jaskier’s insecurities to… _kissing._ Geralt didn’t need to ask. He knew he didn’t need to ask, so why was he asking? The room felt close, all of a sudden too warm. This was about more than a kiss. Geralt was asking for a commitment, he realized. _No_ , came a second thought. _He’s offering one_.

He felt Geralt start to pull away as his hesitation lasted longer than it really should have, and he panicked.

“No!” he yelped, a frantic objection to Geralt’s move away from him. “I mean. Yes. Fuck, the ‘no’ was to stop you from – dammit, Geralt. Yes. _Please_.”

Geralt’s brows were drawn together in confusion, his lips pursed. “Which is it?”

“I want this. I want you. Stop fucking around and kiss me.”

“You hesitated. I’m not going to fuck around with consent,” Geralt countered.

“No. I guess you wouldn’t,” Jaskier said quietly, his eyes wide, and if they were looking a little glassy, well, it was doubtless just a reflection of the light. “I might love you a little, for that.”

Jaskier felt a warm puff of air across his cheek as Geralt moved in closer again, watching Jaskier with eyes that were both tender and hungry at the same time. Golden eyes blinked, looking down to Jaskier’s lips.

“It wasn’t hesitation,” Jaskier murmered. “I just can’t… think straight when you –”

Before he could finish, Geralt slid his hand around Jaskier’s neck to grip him by the nape with a large but gentle hand, pulling his head forward and pressing a soft kiss to Jaskier’s mouth. His lips were cool, and Jaskier leaned into them with parted mouth and a guttural moan.

“When I what?” Geralt asked, coming up for air far too soon.

Jaskier felt like he was floating. “What?” he echoed, dazed.

“You can’t think straight when I what?” Geralt repeated.

Jaskier had no idea what he was talking about.

“Exist?” he suggested, choosing the first word that seemed to fit, tangling his fingers in Geralt’s hair and pulling him back in. “Do that again.”

“No,” Geralt replied, pressing small, soft kisses along Jaskier’s jawline, scraping lightly with his teeth before moving down Jaskier’s neck. The soft sighs and gasps the musician made in response sent pulses of heat through him, and Geralt felt his self-control floating away like dandelion seeds on a spring breeze.

“I think we should… save this for your place,” Geralt breathed, pausing again. Jaskier, eyes wide, panting, wanting, gripped Geralt’s shirt in his fists, and Geralt groaned audibly. “I think… I get the feeling we’re going to get _loud_.”

“I can –” Jaskier started to object, before throwing his arms around Geralt’s neck with a soft cry. “No. I can’t. I don’t want to hold back. Come home with me tonight.”

There was a pause while Geralt considered his options. He had to work early the next day, and although he rarely slept well the night before his first shift, he did have to get _some_ sleep. By the time Yenn got home, that would only leave them an hour or two.

“I… Jask. I want to. So much. But... this is going to sound… I don’t know, hopelessly romantic I guess, but I want our first night together to be special. I don’t want to rush, and if I come tonight I’ll be watching the clock, worried about making sure I get some sleep before work. I won’t be there to watch you wake up in the morning, to have breakfast with you. I want time to enjoy you. I want _everything_.”

Geralt hummed as Jaskier burrowed into his neck, taking it as an invitation to hold him closer. He curled his fingers through soft brown hair while his mind worked through his schedule for the next week.

“We can wait for my days off, but I’d have to check with Yenn to make sure she can pick up the slack with Ciri. _Alternatively_ , tomorrow night. I have a night shift Monday so I’ll have to have a sleep in the afternoon, but we’d have all night and the morning. If you want.”

“mhmm. I want,” Jaskier murmured into Geralt’s neck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! So updates for this are going to continue slowly, I don't have a schedule but expect around 10 days between updates. I have a plan, but I don't have much more written at this point.
> 
> I have never written smut before and wasn't planning to with this, BUT if you'd like me to have a go for the next chapter, let me know in the comments and I can see how it goes...?


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunday bloody Sunday.

09:51. Jaskier huffed his annoyance at the clock and its heartlessly slow marking of the day. Over the past hour, he had worked his way through every instrument he owned, in an unsuccessful attempt to get some work done. Scrubbing his fingers through his hair, he wondered if he would have less difficulty writing music if he wasn’t so self-taught. Perhaps if he knew the rules, the language better, he would be able to create in a more methodical manner, independent of the whims of his inspiration. Then again, perhaps knowing more rules would hinder his creativity. 

His attempts to rehearse met with equally poor success, and after another he hour realized the only thing he was accomplishing was increasing frustration. 10:47. Throwing in the towel, he made a cup of tea and sat on the sofa with a book. A minute later, he threw that aside too. He had read the same paragraph three times in a row and still had no idea what it said. He tried writing, Netflix, gaming, all with the same result. Nothing held his attention for more than a few minutes.

Curling up on the sofa, he flicked through the handful of photos of Geralt on his phone. Six months later, the man still filled his stomach with butterflies. His angular features, long white hair and dimpled chin were a striking combination, one Jaskier could happily admire indefinitely. The first picture was one Yenn had taken on their first game night. He was still sore, guarding his injured side, but his colour was back and he had to admit, without the pallor of illness, he looked good. Ciri was sitting next to Geralt, across the table from him, and he smiled at the memory.

That first night, after he had knocked, the door was flung wide open by a girl with wide green eyes and an abundance of energy.

“Jaskier,” she had greeted him, ash-blonde hair framing a small face. “I’m Ciri.”

Jaskier bowed. “I still have your picture,” he told her.

“Hmm,” Ciri replied, such a mirror of Geralt’s speech that Jaskier smiled. She folded her arms across her chest. “Of course, I didn’t know it was going to somebody famous.”

“Oh? Would that have spared me?” Jaskier asked.

“No.” Ciri had grinned and grabbed his hand, dragging him into the house. A large coffee table in front of the sofa was cleared and set up with cushions scattered around the far side. “You can set up here. Dad’s just fixing dinner.”

Jaskier checked the time again. 11:03. _Tea_ , he reminded himself. _Drink the damn tea_.

Another moment later, he decided that since he _clearly_ couldn’t focus long enough to do anything productive, he would do something mindless. Tossing his phone aside, he changed into clothing more practical for a workout, and put on what he called _doof doof music_. It was a technical term, okay? He was a professional, after all. The music took over, vibrating through him, distracting him from thinking, and he very much wanted to be not thinking right now, and he warmed up to do some weight training. He had a small gym set up in a second living area - even before people started to recognize him, he had preferred that to gyms filled with people he didn’t know. It always surprised people, given his career, to discover that he could get so anxious in crowds.

11:39, and the restless energy caught up to him again. Perhaps he could lose some time in the shower, water was always soothing, and he _did_ need to wash.

Clean and scrubbing his hair dry with a towel, he went to check his phone again. Tea. Cold. _Fuck_. 11:57. Six hours still to go. _If I am like this now, how the fuck am I going to hold it together until Geralt gets here?_ Jaskier asked himself. He closed his eyes. _What has helped before?_ His mind was racing, thoughts too scattered. _Drink_ , one of those thoughts nagged at him. _Shut up_ , he told it. _One glass to relax._

He shook his head, knowing that once he’d had one, if it failed to achieve the desired effect it would be much easier to convince himself to have another, and then another. Besides, he’d be drinking on an empty stomach. Empty stomach! He hadn’t eaten since breakf— _since_ _yesterday_. Okay, not good. _Not hungry,_ his mind informed him. _Not helpful,_ he shot back. Hungry or not, he needed to eat. Kitchen. Chicken, lettuce, tomato, cucumber, aioli, wrap. Coffee and angst. 12:15.

There was a Dungeons and Dragons night to plan, so he took a pen and his notebook and tried to focus on that. Even if he couldn’t plan something coherent, it was a start. A few notes were better than no plan at all, he could refine it later. The first week Jaskier had run a game at Geralt’s, it was a relatively straightforward tabletop game. Ciri had watched with bright, intelligent eyes focused on the board while Jaskier explained the game mechanics, while Geralt watched Ciri with a soft, indulgent smile. In spite of the apocalyptic title, Pandemic was a fun, cooperative game, and Jaskier could control the level of difficulty to make it manageable for first-time players.

Since then, they had alternated between a Dungeons and Dragons campaign on nights Yenn and Geralt would both be home, often including Triss as well, and a tabletop game, movies or computer games when it was just the three of them.

12:21. Jaskier was ready to scream into the void. He looked back down at the pen in his hand, and the page in front of him that remained stubbornly devoid of words. _Social media?_ Perhaps, if he couldn’t keep himself distracted for more than five minutes at a time, interacting with his fans would at least give someone a bit of fun.

Ten minutes later, he was trying to think of something witty to post. A photograph? No, nothing was nice enough. _Staged_ , he realised. _Fake_. Why do that, when you could get real? No, never too real. He wasn’t allowed to have bad days, mistakes weren’t easily forgiven, and they were never forgotten. He couldn’t talk about Geralt, couldn’t even _mention_ him, that would trigger keen eyes to search. Once Geralt was public knowledge, he could sing his praises everywhere, but not before that.

Not feeling crafty with words, he scrolled through his twitter feed and made a few supportive comments on posts by colleagues he was friendly with. Essi Daven was releasing a new album, he had always liked her. Her career had tanked when… when… his heart fluttered. When controversy after controversy hit the media, shortly after she split with her manager. _Valdo Marx_. At the time, Jaskier had believed he wasn’t involved, didn’t believe Essi when she tried to warn him. He groaned at that. He’d let her down.

Essi had a big heart, and Valdo’s charisma was legendary. He’d survived and thrived through multiple similar accusations to Essi’s, and _always_ managed to come out on top.

He sent her a message. _I fired Valdo. Can we talk?_

Forty minutes later, she was sitting in his living room, grilling him over what had happened with Valdo, validating his concerns that Valdo might retaliate, and telling the story of what had happened to her. She gave him the number of a lawyer, someone that could help him plan a response.

Making herself at home, she leaned back on the sofa and put her feet up on the coffee table, reaching out to tuck a curl of Jaskier’s hair behind his ear. “I’m sorry this is happening to you. It wasn’t fun time for me, and I am _not_ going to let you deal with it on your own, okay?”

“Essi, I never… I didn’t. When you… I’m sorry. I didn’t know who to trust, and I didn’t… I should have…” he hung his head helplessly. “I knew, later. It took another six months to realize I made a mistake with Valdo. It took me this long to build up the courage to get out. I’m sorry, Essi. I should have called you. I wasn’t… strong.”

“It’s okay, Jaskier. I know what it’s like, remember? I know what _he's_ like. He preys on vulnerable people, turns on the charm. The man could convince you a daisy was a rose, and that if you couldn’t see it, the fault was with you. _I know._ At least _you_ had the foresight to have a lawyer check over your contract. I always liked you, Jaskier. I don’t blame you, you were caught in his net too. I blame Valdo.”

Jaskier watched her uncertainly. “Friends, then?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said with a smile, rising to leave. “Friends.”

Jaskier held her back.

“I thought you said you have a date?” she looked at him quizzically.

“I do, but Ess, I’m a fucking _disaster_. I haven’t been able to sit still for two minutes together all day, my nerves are shot. Please, if you’re free, I could do with the company. Time actually started moving again after you got here…” he twisted his hands together, anxiety spiking again. “It’s been a slow burn. Tonight will be the first time we’ve been alone together in six months."

Her eyes narrowed as she examined him, and Jaskier blushed. “This one means a lot to you, doesn’t… he?” she asked.

Jaskier nodded silently, his throat closing over, stopping him from elaborating. Essi gave his hand a squeeze, and sat back down, just as Jaskier stood up.

“You know what?” he asked, pulling her back up to her feet. “Why don’t we go jam. I haven’t been able to do anything productive _all fucking day_ , and I miss the times we used to mess around with music together. If you want?”

Time flew so fast then that Jaskier forgot to keep an eye on the clock, and it wasn’t until his phone vibrated in his pocket that he realized they were being too loud to hear the intercom buzz. He tried to divest himself of the guitar slung over his shoulder, but he suddenly seemed to have two left arms, and the strap refused to cooperate. Essi rose from the piano with a smile and stilled his hands, reaching up to pull the strap over his head and setting the guitar back on its stand.

“He’s here,” he said, frozen in place.

“Yes, I figured that.” Essi grinned. “He really has you struck, I see.”

Jaskier nodded, still immobile, and Essi leaned in to him, grinning.

“I think. You should answer the door.”

“Fuck.” Jaskier bounced to his feet, and bolted for the door, Essi chuckling in his wake.

“Geralt! Sorry, I didn’t hear the door, this is my friend –”

“Essi Daven, as I live and breathe,” Geralt interrupted, scooping the small woman up in his arms and swinging her around before setting her back on her feet again.

Essi turned a wide-eyed stare on Jaskier. _“Geralt_ is your date?”

Jaskier looked from one to the other, his mouth open wide, struggling to process this new development.

“Yes, okay. This is perfectly normal and not at all impossible, _and_ _how the fuck_ do you two know each other? Geralt, how do you know who Essi is, when you didn’t know who I was?”

Essi nudged his ankle with her boot. “Jaskier! _Rude_.”

Jaskier looked at her, baffled, before realizing how conceited that sounded. He raised his hands in self-defense. “That’s not what I meant! Geralt just isn’t really into music, he’s not in the industry, and, um… I think I am… lost.”

“I used to teach Ciri,” Essi explained. “Before my career took off, and again, when Valdo pulled his shit and it tanked again. Geralt gave me a job, believed me, when a lot of others didn’t.”

“I’m sorry, little one,” Jaskier said. “Valdo –”

Essi waved an arm in dismissal. “I know. He’s very convincing, and well. Old, convincing white man, shit doesn’t really stick.”

“Valdo Marx is why that happened?” Geralt asked her.

“Yes. And… Jaskier is right, he will find a way to cause Jaskier problems. Jaskier, your accident. Is that how the two of you met?”

“Yes, and Geralt made him look bad at the hospital. Valdo was being an asshole. Well, Valdo made himself look bad by being himself and it was the catalyst for getting rid of him, but Geralt was there. He stuck up for me, without knowing anything about me.”

“Yeah, he does that,” Essi smiled.

Geralt growled. “He was hurting you.”

Essi winced, looking at Geralt. “There’s your answer, you witless buffoons. You’re dating a patient. I don’t know what the rules are, but even if there isn’t an unethical angle, Valdo will spin it that way. Especially if he’s out to get Geralt as well, the man can hold a grudge. He’ll have other things too, whatever he’s collected from your past, Jaskier, anything you’ve told him in confidence, but I doubt he has anything there you care about. I know you, love. I know how you feel about the celebrity spotlight and how protective you are of people. This is the thing would break you.”

Jaskier turned white. He took a shaky breath in, and Geralt quickly closed the distance between them, pulling Jaskier to his chest. “Sorry,” Jaskier said in a quiet voice. “Sorry, sorry, sorry. Fuck, I never wanted to, I never –”

“I know, Jas. Listen to me, love. Breathe, okay? We haven’t actually done anything wrong, there’s no policy, or structure for this in my profession, not yet. But there is in nursing and medicine, and it’s reasonable that that’s what would apply to me. It’s roughly six months, but there’s more or less of a buffer depending on the length and intensity of the treating relationship.”

“Six months?” Jaskier repeated.

“It won’t matter,” Essi said. “Marx will find a way to spin it make it sound dirty. Call the lawyer, Jask. He’s a fixer, of sorts. If anyone can turn this on its head, it’s him. And well. If you happen to find a way to bury Marx in a pile of his own shit, I won’t be sorry.”

Essi waited for Jaskier’s nod before reaching for the door. “You know, if either of you had told me about this, I wouldn’t have believed you. But seeing you together, its… it’s _right_. Jaskier, you practically started _glowing_ the moment Geralt stepped through the door, and Geralt you…” she trailed off, shaking her head. “You both deserve this. Look after each other.”

Geralt reached an arm out without looking, and yanked her back in close. Without needing to say a word, both men wrapped her in a warm hug. “Okay, okay!” she yelped after a minute of not quite suffocating, her face pressed into Jaskier’s chest. “Let me go so you can enjoy your… date. Don’t be strangers, okay? Either of you. You’ll need me, if – _when_ – Valdo starts causing trouble.”

Essi extricated herself from the embrace and Geralt closed the gap, pulling Jaskier firmly against him again. When he heard the door snick with a soft sound behind him, Geralt spoke quietly.

“You can’t protect us forever, Jas. I don’t…”

Geralt paused, looking into blue eyes that were filled with fear. Eyes that held his heart. He loved Jaskier, he knew that. But those words were too soon for Jaskier to hear, and he knew that too. He wasn’t ready to believe he _deserved_ it.

“You won’t lose us, love. You know, I expected something rather more volatile, but your presence in our lives, in my life, has been calm and loving, and I _will_ fight to keep it, if I have to. You can’t keep stretching yourself so thin, trying to protect us. Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it.”

“Together,” Jaskier whispered, and Geralt felt some of the tension ease from his shoulders.

“Together,” Geralt agreed, tilting Jaskier’s chin to press a soft kiss to his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So when I asked at the end of the last chapter if people wanted me to include a sex scene, I miiiiiight have jumped the gun a little. YodelNudel's comment on the last chapter prompted a little of Jaskier filling in some of the 6-month jump, and then a character that I was going to introduce a few chapters away decided to jump forward, and then it turns out she knows Geralt... Look, I'm a chaotic disaster, ok? I'm as surprised by this development as you are.
> 
> Regarding any potential sex scenes: I still won't say no, but clearly I have no idea what I'm doing, so who knows it might happen BUT at this point, I'm thinking that if I do write one, possibly for the night following this day, I'll do it as a standalone thing. Then you can read it or not, it won't affect the rest of the story. Honestly, I've never made a... what's the word - confident? absolute? decision in my life, I don't plan on starting now.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey gang, apparently I can't make decisions and then stick to them like a rational human. My excuse for this ridiculously long chapter that covers an entire half hour or so of time is that I just couldn't find a great place to break it off, and once I started writing I just... couldn't stop. 
> 
> The first ~1200 words is mainly talk with some more explicit discussion about sex and kinks towards the end. I'll stick in a line of **stars** before any sex talk happens, and another before anything more intimate happens so anyone who wants to skip those parts, can. 
> 
> Since this has taken a few turns away from my original intent, heed the warnings:  
> Geralt has some body/self-esteem issues stemming from childhood weight/bullying, and is uncomfortable with physical praise.  
> actual: hand jobs, spontaneous sensation play, possessiveness, self-control. Geralt may have a praise kink.  
> discussions about: control, edging/orgasm delay, consent, safewords, spanking.
> 
> Geralt is cautious, Jaskier not so much but we're following RACK principles and communicating/negotiating before we even start messing with anything big. Or anything at all. For some reason.

Geralt flexed his fingers in the small of Jaskier’s back, the other hand grazing a thumb across the musician’s cheek as he pulled out of the kiss and pressed their foreheads together. Jaskier chased his lips with a soft whine of objection, tangling his fingers in Geralt’s hair, attempting to pull him back down.

“Jas, I’m still… I came straight from work. Before we take this any further, I need a shower. Do you have anything planned for dinner?”

“ _Dinner?”_ Jaskier squeaked. In the unsettled turmoil of his day, dinner hadn’t even crossed his mind. His shoulders sagged, and he rubbed his hand across his eyes in frustration. “I forgot. I’ve been so on edge all day. I’m sorry.”

Geralt felt Jaskier tense up in his arms again.

“It’s okay, dinner is easily organized. What’s going on? Is this about Marx?”

“No,” Jaskier denied with a shake of his head, stepping back far enough to focus on Geralt’s golden eyes. “I mean, that’s probably an undercurrent, but it’s more about me. Anxiety, mainly I guess, I had so much trouble holding it together today. I couldn’t get anything done, couldn’t practice, couldn’t read, couldn’t write. Forgot to eat. Caught between excitement and terror at the prospect of you staying the night. I’m sorry, it’s… this happens, sometimes. The day of a first performance, or before an interview. I’d have been okay if it was last night, I just had too much time to think about it today.”

“You don’t need to apologize, Jas. And please don’t ever feel like you can’t tell me what’s going on with you, okay? We’re very different people, if we want this to work, we have to be able to communicate.”

Jaskier’s lips quirked up in a small smile. “As much as I agree with you, most of the time I don’t even know there’s something _wrong_ until I’m so deep in it I _can’t_ do anything about it. Or like today, my thoughts were so scattered that even if I had a list of exercises taped to the fridge, I’d forget they were there, even… fuck, see? I do have medication I can take, and now is the first time all day that I’ve remembered.”

Geralt nodded, lacing his fingers through Jaskier’s and pulling his hands up to his chest. “We still have a lot to learn about each other, Jas. Are you okay now? Now that I’m here? Is there anything you need?”

“I’m okay. Better. Still… a bit hyped.” Jaskier wriggled his hands free and wrapped them around Geralt’s neck, resting his head on the broad shoulder. Geralt gently placed his hands around Jaskier’s waist. He had barely taken time to change after work, and was wearing a black t-shirt and stretch jeans. The shirt was soft, Geralt’s presence warm and comforting, and Jaskier sighed into the embrace.

They stood like that for several minutes, eyes closed and bodies pressed comfortably together, until Geralt hummed softly. “I know this is your house, but let me look after you tonight,” he whispered into Jaskier’s ear.

Jaskier flinched. “I’m a terrible host…”

“No, you’re not, and I don’t care. I’m here for _you_ , not expectations. Jas everyone has strengths, weaknesses. You’re not alone. We can plan tonight together, if you want. Or if you prefer, you can take charge. I don’t mind either way, I would like to take care of you, but only if _you_ want that. What do you want?”

“I’ll... think about it,” Jaskier said. “I trust you, I’m just not sure I’m ready to give up that much control.”

“Okay then,” Geralt smiled. “I really do need to wash work off. Would you like to do something about dinner, or join me?”

“Do you often invite someone into their own shower on the first date?” Jaskier teased, the change of subject a welcome distraction from his own thoughts.

Geralt blushed. “Sorry. I _could_ have had a shower at work, but they’re kind of… locker-room, and just… this is my routine. It’s like I’m washing off _work_ , it makes it easier for me to leave the… stress, the… everything… behind.”

Jaskier nodded, and taking Geralt’s hand, led him to the bathroom. “If we’re going to communicate, why don’t we start with this. I want you. In every way possible, and vanilla is fine but… if you want to take it further, I’d be on board with that too. The last six months has been wonderful, _special_ , but it’s also been tough, keeping my hands to myself when I want them all over you. Do you even _know_ how hot you are? Every time I look at you, I forget to _breathe_.”

Feeling his face reddening again, Geralt kept his head down. “I like working out. It’s sort of… meditative. It gives my mind a break from thinking too much, but… I was the fat kid, and in my mind I’m _still_ that kid so compliments about my body are… difficult to accept. And my face is hardly something to write home about. You’re not exactly… unappealing yourself, you know. Whenever you look at me from across the room, I can’t think. You have the most beautiful blue eyes, and there’s this one lock of your hair that keeps falling across your face that you tuck behind your ear…”

* * * * * * * *

“If I get into the shower with you, what do you want?” Jaskier asked, pulling some towels and a cloth from cupboard before turning back to Geralt.

“Whatever you’re willing to give.”

Jaskier hummed his amusement. “ _You’re_ the one who said to communicate. Does it have to be awkward?” He pulled Geralt’s shirt off over the top of his head and ran his hands over the bare skin of his chest, lingering on faded scars. “The shower was your idea. Tell me what you _want_.”

Geralt shuddered lightly under Jaskier’s touch, and put his hands out to unbutton Jaskier’s shirt and shrug it off over his shoulders in turn. “I don’t know about you, but I’m so worked up… I’m not going to last long this first time. Get me off in the shower, however you want, and I’ll do the same for you. After we’ve had a rest, something for dinner, we can do things properly.”

Wide blue eyes watched him, and Jaskier’s face wore a soft smile. He continued stroking Geralt’s chest with a light touch, flexing his fingers in the coarse white hair. “And what would you define as ‘properly’?”

“I guess that depends if you want to top or bottom,” Geralt said, pressing firm kisses into the front of Jaskier’s throat. “I switch. If you trust me enough to take the lead tonight, I would _like_ to make it slow. Explore every inch of you. Edge you a little. Fuck you slowly. I want to see you _beg_ , and I want to watch you while you come. I don’t do anything you haven’t agreed to beforehand, and either of us can call a stop any time.”

It was Jaskier’s turn to tremble, and Geralt palmed the front of his jeans. Jaskier was already half-hard, and Geralt twisted open the buttons of his fly, letting his fingers play in the trail of hair that led downwards from his navel.

“I don’t… beg,” Jaskier rasped.

“We’ll see,” Geralt grinned, planting another kiss on Jaskier’s neck, scraping at the skin with his teeth. “I have all night. _If_ that is what you want. Your turn. What do _you_ want, Jaskier?”

Jaskier’s breathing was coming shallow and fast, and he pushed Geralt back against the bathroom door, grinding their hips together. “I want you to stand behind me in the shower, I want to feel your hard cock pressing into my back while you reach around from behind me and let me fuck into your hands. I want your teeth in my neck, my shoulder, my _ears_ , and I want to see if you can come just from rubbing against me while you do it.”

* * * * * * * *

Geralt groaned, and reached down to grip Jaskier’s ass in his hands, pulling him in more tightly. His hardening cock strained at his tight jeans, pressing against Jaskier’s length. He held Jaskier still against him until it became impossible to resist rutting against him, and in a sudden movement, gripped Jaskier’s arms and spun him around. He used one arm to hold Jaskier firmly against his chest, the other to slide his hand down inside the front of Jaskier’s briefs. Spreading fingers wide, he let them explore before releasing Jaskier’s cock from its confinement and stroking its length with just the tips of his fingers.

“Like this?” Geralt whispered in Jaskier’s ear. “Is this what you want?”

Jaskier melted back into muscular arms and stretched his head back to nuzzle into Geralt’s neck, pressing a kiss to the angle of his jaw. “Mmmh.”

“And what about the rest of the night?” Geralt asked, rubbing his thumb along the velvety-soft tip before making a ring with his fingers and sliding it down the soft skin of Jaskier’s length. His fingers were too loose for any real friction, but Jaskier thrust into them anyway, chasing more.

“Yes. What you said. I’m impatient. Make it last. Make me wait for it.”

“Hmm,” Geralt rumbled in a voice that sounded like gravel, closing his fingers into a fist and giving a single long, slow stroke, stopping only to hold the tip in his grip. Jaskier tried to thrust forward again, but Geralt just moved his hand with the movement, refusing to give Jaskier satisfaction. “I thought you said you wouldn’t beg.”

“I might have lied,” Jaskier panted. “Geralt, _please_ …”

Geralt took his hand away to a whined protest from the musician, his voice turning serious. “Are you sure Jas? I want to drag it out. Will you be okay, if I tease you like this, later? If I ignore what you want, when you’re desperate?”

Jaskier nodded. “I know it will be worth it.”

“And what if you really feel like you can’t handle it? How will I know? I don’t want to take it too far, and I really don’t want you to feel like you don’t have control.”

“I trust you,” Jaskier said simply, and Geralt put both arms around Jaskier’s chest, tightening them in a hug.

“Oh, Jask. I never want to do anything to hurt you, but it’s going to take time to learn about each other, and I can’t see what you’re thinking. In the heat of the moment, I’m not always going to be focused on you. What if I don’t notice? Choose a safe word. For my peace of mind, if not for yours.”

“Okay,” Jaskier agreed. “Traffic lights.”

Geralt pressed a kiss into Jaskier’s neck and gave him a gentle shove forward. “I think you had better finish undressing and get that shower going, because now _I’m_ getting impatient.”

Jaskier flicked the water on for the shower and turned back to watch Geralt strip, folding his arms across his chest to keep himself from reaching out. He really did have a body to die for, the man clearly didn’t skip leg day. Or any other day. Geralt didn’t notice Jaskier watching him until he kicked his briefs aside, onto a messy pile of clothing. He flushed lightly, and Jaskier saw his hands twitch, as if he were inclined to cover himself, but instead stood there with one eyebrow raised, waiting while Jaskier raked his eyes over every inch of Geralt’s pale body.

“Your turn,” he said after a minute, bringing Jaskier out of his trance.

“Oh. I guess that’s fair,” Jaskier said with a nervous smile. “I might be disappointing, compared to you.”

“Jas, you could never be disappointing. No pressure. You’re gorgeous, but that’s not why I care about you. Would you like me to do it?”

Jaskier nodded, and Geralt closed the distance between them in a single step. “Hold onto something,” he said, kneeling down to untie shoelaces. He worked one shoe off, and then the other, quickly followed by socks. Kneeling up, he came face-to-face with Jaskier’s cock, and unable to help himself, darted his tongue out. Jaskier gasped, automatically moving his hands to Geralt’s head, but Geralt ignored the invitation and let Jaskier’s erection bounce against his face while he slowly worked his jeans and briefs together over his hips and down to his ankles. He stood up, taking Jaskier’s hands so he could step out of his clothes, and kicked them to the side. The glass walls of the shower were starting to fog up, and steam billowed out when Geralt pulled the door open.

“Come on. We’re wasting water.” Geralt pulled Jaskier in behind him. The shower was large. Not surprisingly, Jaskier’s house was luxurious. Not ostentatiously so, but enough to be spacious and comfortable, and the shower was large enough to accommodate both of them easily.

Jaskier took the washcloth and hesitated over a range of bodywashes lining a shelf. His usual preference was something he wasn’t sure Geralt would go for, and he stood there in indecision for a minute before Geralt’s arm reached over his shoulder and picked one out.

“Peppermint? Does this do what I think it does?”

“If you think it has a bite, then the answer is no. It has a sensory effect though. It will make you feel cold, and… in _sensitive_ places, the effect is much stronger, it lasts about five minutes. The orange one is ginger, same sort of effect but warming, and it lasts a bit longer.”

“I have to be honest. I’ve held off on using anything stronger. Not because I don’t want to, because I didn’t trust anyone else with it, and I don’t trust myself to be safe about it. If that’s something _you_ want to explore though…?”

Geralt squirted a small amount of the peppermint wash onto Jaskier’s cloth, and then a little more onto his own hands and working it into a lather. “I like peppermint. And yes to the rest, but not tonight. We’d need to plan for it. May I?” He asked, holding up his hands and eyeing Jaskier’s naked erection. He waited for Jaskier to nod, before reaching one hand underneath to soap up his balls, fondling them gently before using the other to lather the shaft of Jaskier’s cock, starting at the base and stopping just shy of the head, looking at Jaskier with a raised eyebrow, questioning if he wanted him to go further.

Jaskier stood motionless, trying not to rock against Geralt’s hand. “All of it,” he said, letting out a soft moan when Geralt coated the sensitive head as well. His balls felt like a cool breeze was blowing on them, his shaft tight, the cooling sensation pleasantly strong without being overwhelming. He concentrated on washing Geralt everywhere else before adding more soap and coming back to work on his cock and balls. The cold hit quickly, and Geralt’s eyes flew wide in surprise.

“Everywhere else, it just smells nice. You’re right, it doesn’t hurt, but it’s _cold_. And… tingly. I like it.”

Jaskier dropped the washcloth over a hook and turned back to Geralt, stroking his fingers along the line just below his ribs and tracing his hands up over the muscles of his chest to rest around the back of his neck. Geralt placed his hands on Jaskier’s hips and pulled him closer. Water ran in streams over Geralt’s head and down his face, and Jaskier’s hair was plastered down, one brown curl clinging stubbornly to his left temple. 

Eyes locked on Geralt, Jaskier leaned his head in and pressed his lips to Geralt’s. Feeling more relaxed and alert, he was aware of every sensation. Geralt’s lips were warm and soft, and Jaskier could feel the pressure on the raw skin of his own lower lip where he’d been worrying it with his teeth all day.

Geralt parted his lips and Jaskier’s tongue darted out, tasting him, warm fresh water cascading down between them, making it harder to breathe. All of a sudden, Geralt’s shoulders started shaking, and Jaskier moved back.

“Everything okay?” he asked Geralt, looking at him with concern. “Wait. Are you… _laughing_?”

“I’m sorry,” Geralt said, thumbs rubbing across Jaskier’s waist. He ducked his head, looking a little sheepish. “It’s not at you, I swear. I just… I have no idea what I’m doing. I don’t understand tongues. It’s… I don’t really know what to do, or understand the appeal, and I’m just… so _very fucking_ awkward…”

Jaskier tried not to smile, but the corners of his mouth betrayed him. “Geralt?”

“Try not to hate me too much,” Geralt said with a wry smile.

“No hate. You seem like you’re always in control, you just… you’re cool, calm and collected, no matter what. I was starting to think you were perfect, and frankly, it can be little intimidating. This is… impossibly adorable, and I love it.”

The shower had an adjustable head, so Geralt dropped it to just above shoulder-height before taking Jaskier in his arms and turning him around, gentle and slow, pulling him back flush against his own body. Water cascaded over Jaskier’s shoulders, running between them and down over Jaskier’s chest, leaving his own back exposed to the air. Geralt’s hard cock nestled between the top of Jaskier’s buttocks, resting on the small of his back.

“If you call me cute, I might have to spank you,” Geralt said, fondling Jaskier’s ass cheek with his free hand.

“That’s. Not a deterrent,” Jaskier gasped, glancing back at Geralt, blue eyes blazing with want, his lips shaped into a decidedly feral grin.

“Hmm,” Geralt replied, his deep voice reverberating in Jaskier’s ear. He tilted Jaskier’s chin toward him for another kiss, then worked his hand down Jaskier’s abdomen with slow, deliberate strokes. “Lean into me.”

Jaskier let Geralt take some of his weight, and raised his arm up over his shoulder to run his hand through Geralt’s hair, flexing his fingers through his scalp.

“Pull, if you want,” Geralt said, kissing Jaskier’s neck and scraping it with his teeth.

A flush of heat seared through Jaskier’s mind, his cock twitching in response and he let out a soft moan. He tipped his head back to further expose his neck, inviting more. Grabbing a fistful of Geralt’s hair, he gave it an experimental tug and was rewarded with a grunt and Geralt’s hips moving against him, the hard cock pressing into his back moving with every rock of his hips. Geralt let his fingers play over Jaskier’s shaft, rubbing the velvety softness of the tip with his thumb, sliding his hand underneath to fondle balls.

Jaskier picked up the bottle of soap again, and Geralt held out his palm for Jaskier to squeeze out a portion. Geralt applied it to himself first, the soap making his contact with Jaskier almost frictionless, his cock slipping sideways. He held his hand out again for more, and Jaskier obliged. Geralt spread some of the soap along Jaskier’s cock before reaching around to massage it carefully into the sensitive skin of the sac around his balls. He brought his hand back up again, and made sure the rest of the soap was lathered around his cock all the way from the base, paying special attention to the head.

Adjusting his grip around Jaskier’s chest, Geralt made a fist around Jaskier’s cock, moving his hand in long, slippery strokes along the length, gradually increasing his pressure. He occasionally added a twist to his grip, rubbing his thumb across the head or holding it in his fist before sliding his hand back down to the base. Jaskier arched his back against Geralt, any words he had left deteriorating into a stream of moaning gasps and unintelligible vocalizations.

While he stroked, Geralt pressed soft kisses into the side of Jaskier’s neck before mouthing at the angle between his neck and shoulder, finding the thick muscle and biting gently into it. Jaskier cried out, louder than before, arching into him, and Geralt bit down harder. When he let go, his teeth left small red dents behind in the soft skin, and he kissed the marks before moving to the side and biting down again. He knew from experience that pressing into the muscle with his teeth felt like something akin to a deep massage. More than just the touch of pain, it was oddly relaxing and wouldn’t leave any lasting marks. By the time he released his grip the second time, the first had faded to pink spots.

Jaskier’s mouth was close to his ear, and Geralt was extremely pleased with the noises he was wringing out of the musician. His moans of pleasure were still soft and delightfully incoherent, and Geralt looked forward to taking his time later. Geralt wanted to see him _wrecked_ , and the thought sent a pulse of heat straight down to his cock. The soap had washed away, and he had a little more friction. He swung his hips until his cock settled upright again, and thrust with his hips to get some pressure going. His fist on Jaskier’s cock tightened, and he increased the pace of his strokes.

Jaskier’s breathing quickly became erratic, his hips thrusting into Geralt’s fist without rhythm. His legs started to give out, and Geralt picked up Jaskier’s other arm, directing the hand to the back of his neck to join its counterpart, before tightening his grip across Jaskier’s chest.

“Hold on, Jas,” Geralt said. He felt Jaskier lock his fingers together behind his neck, his face pressed into Geralt’s damp hair behind his ear, head supported on his shoulder.

A third bite into the muscle of Jaskier’s shoulder, and this time when he bit down, he didn’t let go. Jaskier came with a soft cry, hips stuttering while he painted tiles in a white stream of semen, soon washed away in the fall of water. Geralt kept his hand there, milking him through a few more strokes before releasing him to wrap his arm around Jaskier’s waist, keeping him upright. Holding him like this, his own erection all but forgotten, Geralt felt his love for Jaskier wash through him like a tidal wave. To be trusted like this, by someone who had good reason to be suspicious of everybody, was a little overwhelming, and he pressed a firm kiss into Jaskier’s neck while he blinked back unexpected tears.

Catching his breath, Jaskier’s panting sighs tickled Geralt’s ear. When he was recovered enough, he lowered his arms, taking his own weight again and shifting around in Geralt’s arms. Geralt’s erection poked firmly into his abdomen, just above his own softening cock.

“Okay?” Geralt asked, his tone tender.

“Mhmm,” came the reply, and Jaskier looked at Geralt with unfocused eyes and a languid smile. “Geralt. Mine now. My wolf.”

Geralt’s heart flipped somersaults inside his chest. “Oh, Jask. Yes, love. All yours.”

Jaskier crushed his lips into Geralt’s. No tongue this time, Jaskier peppered the larger man with open-mouthed, sucking kisses that stole Geralt’s breath away. He took Geralt’s cock in his hand, wrapping his other hand around Geralt’s neck. “Your turn,” he said. Geralt’s agreement came out as a strangled grunt when Jaskier ran rough, callused fingers over the sensitive tip.

Geralt held perfectly motionless, eyes closed, and Jaskier eyed him curiously.

“So much self-control, you’re planted there like you’ve grown roots. Can you come without moving?” Jaskier asked him.

Geralt’s eyes flew open wide. “Yes. You evil fuck, are you always this much of a prick?”

“Perhaps,” Jaskier said, smirking and giving Geralt’s cock a gentle twist, “but you really shouldn’t say such terrible things while I have _your_ prick in my hand. You have my _enthusiastic consent_ to pay me back later. Keep your eyes open for me, you’re getting close. Gods, you’re so fucking beautiful like this.”

The sound of Jaskier’s voice was _doing_ things to Geralt, and it didn’t take long for his climax to build.

“Jas. Fuck, Jas I’m coming. _Jaskier_.”

“I know, sweetheart. Let it go. Come for me, my wolf.”

Geralt’s vision exploded with white as he came in Jaskier’s hand. Jaskier was still talking, but for a time, Geralt couldn’t make sense of anything he said. Jaskier took his face in his hands, and when his vision cleared and the world started to make sense again, Jaskier was stroking his hair, telling him how good he was. Geralt kissed him roughly and pressed his forehead to Jaskier’s while he caught his breath.

“My beautiful white wolf,” Jaskier said again, and Geralt hummed.

“You talk a lot,” Geralt said.

Jaskier laughed. “Captain obvious over here. I didn’t hear any objections.”

“No objections,” Geralt agreed, smiling. “You also seem to have a possessive streak.”

“Not usually,” Jaskier said, his eyebrows creasing as he considered that. “You seem to bring it out in me. You _also_ seemed to like it. Along with the praise.”

Geralt nodded, running his hands down Jaskier’s back. “I’m not entirely sure if that was the praise, or just listening to the sound of your voice.”

“Things to explore,” Jaskier said, sighing happily in Geralt’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, have we met? yes, I am, in fact, being led around by the nose by these two, and no, I have no idea whether 'what's next' is going to fade to black or not. I think it will? But you see how well that went last time I said I probably wasn't going to do a thing and now probably not is a thing.
> 
> This is the first time I've written anything remotely erotic so please, fling your feedback at me, good, bad or indifferent. I do hope you enjoyed it though, and thank you for reading.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little negotiating, a little 'maybe that wasn't such a great idea', a little Jaskier stress and a lot of soft.

Jaskier cleared the coffee table of the remnants of dinner, throwing dishes in the sink to deal with later. When he returned, he climbed into Geralt’s lap, resting his head on a shoulder and stretching his legs across the length of the sofa. Geralt was wearing the same black t-shirt as before, and it gave off the faintest fragrance of cologne and Geralt.

“Now that we’re both a little less… on edge,” Geralt started, tracing circles on Jaskier’s back with one hand, the other draped across Jaskier’s legs. “How about what we talked about before? Is that what you still want?”

“Yes.”

Geralt’s answering grin was hungry. Wolfish. “Then promise me something.”

“mhmm?”

“Don’t hold out if it gets too much, you don’t need to prove anything to me. Be honest. You trust me to look after you. I trust you to tell me if I need to.”

“Fair.” Jaskier rearranged himself to straddle Geralt’s lap on the sofa, meeting his eyes. “I understand. I take risks, sometimes I trust people I shouldn’t and I _always_ dive in too far too fast and yes, sometimes things have gone badly and I’ve been hurt. One of those things, Marx might try to hold over me. I wasn’t expecting this to go there tonight, but pushing limits is definitely something I want to explore with you. I’ve… it isn’t really something I’ve been able to experience in a healthy way before. I can’t exactly just up and join a kink community and hope it will remain confidential…”

“I know an educator,” Geralt said. “A colleague, actually. Someone who’s passionate about both safety and consent. I can vouch for their discretion, if you want to learn more properly, together. They taught me the basics, but I don’t really have any experience outside that… what?” Geralt stopped at the quizzical expression Jaskier was wearing.

“How did you find out a colleague was a kink educator?”

“Work. Got a job at an event, they were with the patient.” Geralt grinned. “One of the really fun things about my job is getting to go into all sorts of places you wouldn’t usually. I got curious and talked to them about it later. We spent a bit of time together, and they got me to rope bunny a few times for events.”

“ _You subbed?_ ”

“I don’t think you were looking for a stereotype,” Geralt said. The words held no bite though, he was smiling.

“Ok, no, that’s not… It’s just, I’ve seen you take charge, a lot. At the hospital. Here, tonight. And face it, you have a body Thor would die for, I’m just surprised they wouldn’t show off your strength at an event like that.”

Geralt smiled softly, watching Jaskier’s expressions change as he worked his way through his thoughts.

“That’s why, isn’t it?” Jaskier said, combing his fingers absently through Geralt’s hair. “Your friend likes to challenge what people expect to see. It’s probably harder to convince buff men to sub in public, but you don’t give a flying fuck what people might think.”

Geralt inclined his head. “Another possibility is someone who wants the ego trip of dominating someone ‘tougher’ than they are, but –”

“That’s not something you would have been interested in,” Jaskier finished for him.

“No,” Geralt agreed. “As for subbing, you’re right. I take charge, it’s sort of a hangover from work. You walk into a strangers house, or a pub, or a car crash, and take control of a scene, tell people what to do, juggle responsibilities. It can be a lot. Being able to hand over control to someone else for a time is freeing, in its way. It was a long time ago now, before Ciri became a full time commitment. Once she moved in, everything was too busy. I haven’t dated anyone in that long, either.”

“I’d like to learn. Unlike some of my past encounters, I know it would hurt you to hurt me. I don’t want that to happen any more than you do. Tonight, if you ask and I call orange, I’m losing myself. Take it as your cue to finish things. This time.” Jaskier laced his fingers together, and looped his arms over Geralt’s head and around the back of his neck, tugging him forward until their lips almost met. “Besides, next time it will be _my_ turn.”

“Well then,” Geralt said, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He ghosted his lips across Jaskier’s. “Are you ready for round two?”

Jaskier nodded, chasing the kiss, and Geralt ran his hands over Jaskier’s ass, squeezing with his hands while Jaskier made soft noises into his lips. Geralt drew one hand under Jaskier’s t-shirt to his chest, scratching lightly at the skin before moving his hand lower, following the same trail of hair down to the elastic waist of the soft cotton pants Jaskier had donned after their shower. He halted for a moment at the waist before dragging his fingers down over the top, rubbing over Jaskier’s cock through the layers of fabric. Jaskier’s body twitched in response, his hips rolling forward to press himself further into Geralt’s touch.

“I’m not,” Geralt breathed, scooping Jaskier up in his arms and dumping him back on the couch as he stood up. “I believe we ordered dessert.”

Groaning, Jaskier lay back on the sofa while Geralt went to dig in the delivery bags, another erection tenting the front of his pants. “Liar. And also, I hate you.”

“Not yet, you don’t,” Geralt called back, chuckling.

Jaskier closed his eyes, wrestling with himself for a moment before following Geralt and putting a hand on his arm. Geralt turned towards him with a smile, face creasing with worry when he registered Jaskier’s agitation. Before he could say anything, Jaskier spoke.

“Red,” he said. “Fuck. Geralt, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize for recognizing limits. Not with me. I want you to be safe first.” Geralt kept his expression calm, but inside his heart warmed with appreciation at the trust Jaskier was showing him. He reached out, stopping shy of the impulse to take the younger man in his arms and wrap him in a protective embrace, but offering the comfort if that’s what Jaskier needed.

“Please,” Jaskier said, acknowledging the unspoken question, pressing himself into Geralt’s arms. Geralt hummed in satisfaction, folding his arms around Jaskier and waiting patiently for Jaskier to formulate his thoughts.

“Couch,” Jaskier said after a minute, grabbing a pair of spoons and the bag Geralt had been opening before Jaskier had stopped him. He let out a squeak when Geralt picked him up and carried him over, settling him back on his lap.

“Do I weigh nothing to you?” Jaskier demanded. “I’m almost exactly your height.”

“I lift more than you at the gym,” Geralt offered by way of explanation. “Should I have asked? I didn’t want to break contact.”

Leaning on Geralt’s broad chest, Jaskier snuggled in. “I don’t want to be let go. But yes, please ask. You surprised me, and it’s… carrying me like a _child,_ just… I can read it as infantilizing. It’s not always going to be welcome.”

“Understood. It won’t happen again,” Geralt said, looking at the grown man now sitting in his lap with concern. “How about this?”

“This is fine, I want… no, _need_ … the reassurance.” Focusing on opening the box, Jaskier passed Geralt a spoon.

“It’s the... today was… a little rough. Up here,” he said, tapping his head. “When you started, I just… the tension from the rest of the day came back. I think I’m… I just don’t have any emotional reserves left. It’s too much. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” Geralt said softly, a catch in his voice. Jaskier turned his head to examine him, reflexively looking for signs that Geralt wasn’t being entirely honest. He expected at least a touch of annoyance, Geralt had _waited_ for this, they both had, and he knew how unpredictably erratic he could be. He was a lot for anyone to take, even on his good days. It tended to end in either explosively toxic relationships or short but stable, until the other person got sick of his drama. A part of him was prepared for Geralt to take the second path. It would happen eventually, he _knew_ it would, but… what he saw made him start to doubt.

Geralt’s expression was soft, eyes shining, watching Jaskier with eyes filled with nothing but _love_.

“You really mean that, don’t you? You… you lov–” Jaskier broke off, unable to complete the sentence.

“I’m sorry,” Geralt said, looking genuinely regretful at having feelings that made Jaskier uncomfortable. “I know you’re not ready to hear it. Just please, don’t run from this.”

Jaskier cursed the voice inside that was trying to twist Geralt’s meaning and take it poorly, the instinct to use it as an excuse to defend himself, to put up a barrier now so he couldn’t be hurt worse later. The man was appallingly right, but it did nothing to stem the emotional turmoil that was currently bubbling below the surface. He needed a distraction.

A flicker of light from outside was followed by a sudden loud crack of thunder that rumbled through Jaskier, and he jumped. Something fell from his lap onto the floor, and he realized he had forgotten the box he was holding. “Fuck.”

“There goes my sugar fix,” Geralt said without malice.

“Oh, it wasn’t just a torture device then?” Jaskier quipped.

“It was both,” Geralt admitted with a grin. “I like to plan ahead.”

“There’s something I’d like to show you,” Jaskier said abruptly. “Will you come for a walk with me? It will take a few hours.”

Geralt blinked at the sudden change in direction. In this weather? Jaskier was watching him intently, and Geralt realized his answer was important somehow. He watched Jaskier thoughtfully for a minute, working through his own objections.

“You know the risks, I’m not going to mother you,” he said finally.

Jaskier nodded, relaxing. “I’ll rug up, take a mask for the crowds.”

“There won’t be any crowds in a storm,” Geralt pointed out.

“There are where we’re going,” Jaskier replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay, my mental health took a deep dive for no reason at all because that's how we roll around here. Things are still on a go slow, I have a lot on right now because apparently I'm a glutton for punishment SO this side gig is just going to be as and when I can fit it in, I'm so sorry there just aren't enough hours in the day right now.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content notes/warnings. This chapter touches on homelessness, homophobia and Jaskier being a _feral_ bard who put his LGBTQIA+ youth centre in a former church. I hope I have handled these topics with sensitivity: some are close to home, others not so much, so if I have said something I really shouldn't have, please don't be afraid to haul me over the coals.

“Do you have a jacket?” Jaskier asked, eyeing Geralt’s broad shoulders with appreciation for the profile they presented, and scepticism for their girth. “I doubt I have anything that will fit you.”

Geralt nodded. “In the car, it’s parked in the street.”

Jaskier opened a cupboard in the entryway and passed Geralt a backpack. “If you wouldn’t mind?”

He then proceeded to fill a second bag with emergency blankets, some gloves, scarves and beanies, and took a waterproof document pouch from a shelf. Donning his own coat and scarf, he pulled the hood over his head and passed Geralt an umbrella.

Once he retrieved his own coat, Geralt caught Jaskier’s hand. He pressed a quick kiss to Jaskier’s cheek, a silent message that _this was okay_ , and was rewarded with a smile. He reached for the bag Jaskier was carrying, and Jaskier narrowed his eyes, questioning the intent.

“If I hand you whatever you need, you can focus on people,” Geralt explained, and Jaskier nodded, handing him the bag. He kept his pouch.

“Do you do this often?” Geralt asked.

“Whenever I’m home and the weather’s bad. There’s – I have – I sponsor a youth centre a few blocks away. It usually focuses on queer and homeless youth, but it opens up for everyone when the weather’s bad. Most people know, by now, but some won’t take advantage of it without an invitation. And some won’t because they can’t let go of the bigotry they’ve learned. A couple of people we’ve had to ban because they wanted it both ways, demanding the right to harass and intimidate while believing we owe them something at the same time, and somehow I still can’t just ignore even them. That people can hold onto awful beliefs so hard… I don’t think I’ll ever understand it.”

“I don’t think I’d want to.”

“Maybe if I could understand, I could find a way to change their minds. I’m not even sure if I’m doing the right thing with supplies. Having to accept help in general just seems to make them angrier, from me in particular adds insult to injury, but I can’t just let people _die_.”

Geralt stopped for a moment, musing. “You have a good heart, Jask. Life isn’t fair, and people go through some truly terrible things. Some people come out of that with extraordinary compassion for others, like you, some blame everyone else for their situation. Most end up somewhere in-between. You can’t help everyone, at some point… they make their own choices.”

“I know. It doesn’t stop me from trying.”

Switching the bag to the same arm that held the umbrella, Geralt caught Jaskier’s hand in his, giving it a squeeze before changing the topic to something lighter. “Tell me about this youth centre.”

Jaskier’s eyes lit up, and he gestured with his document-pouch hand while he talked. “It’s everything. Community centre, activities, support groups, a clinic, different services run every day and we have networks with the major advocacy and support groups, the relevant clinics at the university hospital. We take a few interns from different courses as well, but they’re very carefully screened, and sponsor scholarships for kids from here that want to enter careers that will help our community. Health care, mainly. Sometimes politics. There’s a shelter too, and group homes, but they’re separate, they need to be safeguarded.”

While they walked, Jaskier detoured into alcoves and alleyways, sometimes leaving supplies, sometimes coaxing someone out of a huddled corner, sending them on ahead to their destination. Geralt’s pack turned out to contain a pair of tightly rolled swags and ration packs that were offered to refusals.

On the final leg of their tour, Jaskier collected an older man he was familiar with and a youth he hadn’t met before, wary of their intentions but too cold and hungry to turn down the offer of food and warmth. Geralt wanted to reassure him, but Jaskier held him back.

“Leave it. He _shouldn’t_ trust people. He’ll learn the centre is safe with time, and we can get him more support when he’s ready. But out here, he needs to be able to protect himself. It’s hard to know who to trust until they prove it to you, one way or another.”

Geralt hummed his assent, and they walked another half-block with no new additions to their group before reaching the door to an old church. Jaskier gave a sly smile when Geralt raised his eyebrows.

“What? I like the architecture, and it had a lot of practical advantages, a large hall, lots of smaller rooms, kitchen, sleeping quarters.”

“You’re not thumbing your nose at a particular kind of bigotry, then?” Geralt asked, seeing right through Jaskier’s dissembling.

“Of course I am.” Jaskier’s tone had an edge to it. “I’m not a saint. I very much hope that my devoutly homophobic parents are _mortified_. It can be all that and still practical. Pettiness doesn’t drive my decisions, but I’m certainly not sorry about it. As an added bonus, it seems even the most problematic bigots will stop short of defacing a _church_ , even one so offensively repurposed, the one time it happened they used chalk pens that washed right off. And there are some who believe we are doing a good thing, some of the volunteers were also part of the old congregation. Since most of us reject faith, it can be hard on those who don’t, it helps to have some more progressive religious types around.” Jaskier threw an inner door wide open. “I’d normally go in the back, but I’d like you to see this.”

Shaking his head, grinning at Jaskier’s combination of ferocity and enthusiasm, Geralt stepped into the warm, yellow light that emanated from the door.

The noise as they entered was loud and chaotic. Voices chattering, occasional shouting, chairs scraping across timber floor, plates and glasses clinking and clattering, all echoing within a cavernous hall. Jaskier held out a pair of industrial ear defenders, and Geralt looked at him, surprise showing on his face.

“How did you know?”

Jaskier pointed around the hall, and Geralt noticed a number of people wearing them. “Educated guess. You don’t like music. Some of the people who come here have sensory issues, you tensed up the moment we walked in. I expect Nenneke will put you to use in the clinic, it’s much quieter in there. Let me show you around first.”

“Nenneke?” Geralt frowned. It was an unusual name, and he couldn’t place where he might have heard it before.

“Master of coordination, whip-cracking and keeper of things running smoothly, she’s in charge. Been here a few months, she’s amazing. Complete coincidence, I had other things on my mind at the time and didn’t remember her at all, she thought she recognised my face but wasn’t sure, with the blood and pain and breathing and all.”

“Didn’t remember –” Geralt stopped as his memory suddenly supplied context for the name. “Wait, she was the capable woman at your crash?”

“Well, I’m glad to have made a good first impression,” a cheerful voice interrupted and Nenneke shoved a tray of cutlery, still warm from the dishwasher, towards Jaskier.

“Don’t let the pretty face deceive you Geralt, this woman is a monster. She’s about to put me to work washing _dishes_ ,” Jaskier complained, putting a hand to his forehead in dramatic objection before taking the tray from her.

“You _ask_ for dishwashing duty, you ass. Drop this on the table on your way past and get out of the crowds, scram.”

Jaskier fled, winking at Geralt as he left for the kitchen, and Nenneke turned her critical gaze on Geralt.

“I hope you mean well by him,” she said, and Geralt sensed that the statement was not so much a question as a warning. She continued before he could respond.

“If you’re willing to help out in first aid, I need some information. Follow me to the office. Put those on if you’re uncomfortable.” Pointing to the orange headgear to emphasize her last instruction, Nenneke turned and stalked off. Geralt donned the ear defenders and followed, trying not to bump into people in his effort to keep up.

Closing the door behind them, Nenneke mimed taking the ear protection off.

“Much quieter at this distance. Fill this in, I need your registration and working with children cards.”

Nenneke passed him a form asking for basic information and contact details, and it didn’t take long for him to fill it in while she photocopied his cards.

“Ears on, follow me,” she said again, bustling out the door and through a sign-filled maze of corridors. Around the last corner, a wide hallway lined with chairs populated by a handful of people greeted them. An older woman was limping out of a doorway and Nenneke nodded, pulling Geralt into the room after her.

“Tissaia, this is Geralt. Paramedic, can you use him?”

Geralt doffed the ear defenders again, and a severe-looking woman with dark hair pulled back from her head in a tight ponytail frowned at him.

“What is your connection to this community?” she asked him.

“Gay. Never been homeless, but I grew up in the foster system. You want to make sure I’m safe for your clients, I’m not exclusionary. Ask me anything.”

She grilled him for a few more minutes before letting him off the hook, and set him up in a small room to clean and dress injuries, with instructions to call her in for anything more complex. “Nurse practitioner,” she said, rattling off a list of skills that might prove useful. “If you need anything, knock on the wall twice, I’ll come in between patients. Three times for an emergency.” She pointed. “Dressings and wound cleaning there. If anything needs ongoing care, there are packs, or ask them to come back. Crash cart there. Oxygen, monitor, defib, everything you’d need to get a resus started. Doesn’t happen often, but best to be prepared. Are you familiar with the models?”

“The monitor is the same our old model, yes.” Geralt cast an experienced eye over the rest of the equipment. “Glucometer I’ve used before, everything else looks straightforward. If I get stuck on anything, I’ll knock.”

Tissaia nodded and walked out the door, directing a number of people to the chairs outside his room to wait. Geralt hung his coat on a peg on the back of the door, and donned a gown from a pile on a shelf. It was familiar territory, he had worked and volunteered in first aid roles both before his career and during, but this was going to be little different to the occasional sprained ankle or chest pain at a sporting or entertainment event. Here were poorly tended wounds more susceptible to infection on malnourished bodies, sometimes likely the result of assault, although nobody trusted him enough to disclose it. Geralt had noticed the discretely placed pamphlets outside though, so he offered gentle support, never pushing. There were also new sprains, strains and grazes from slipping in the wet and mud, some still shivering from the cold, refusing the offer of clean, dry clothing. Geralt wasn’t sure he understood - in some ways, he was out of his depth.

For the occasional nod, smile, or thank-you he got in return, he hoped he was on the right track.

Some four hours later, Geralt removed a third soiled gown and was carefully washing his hands. Fatigue was building, not so much physical as emotional, and he tried not to let himself get buried by sadness for a world that let people suffer. When he turned back, Jaskier was leaning on the doorframe, mask still on, eyes crinkling at the corners when Geralt noticed his presence. Stepping in, he pressed his palm to Geralt’s cheek. Geralt felt himself lean into the hand with a sigh.

“How do you handle it?” he asked.

“This was me, once, Jaskier said with a shrug. “I’m sure you see similar things at work. Are you okay?”

“Work is… yes, but only occasionally. It’s easier to… believe it’s not really this bad, I guess.”

Jaskier nodded. “Tissaia gave you a begrudging well done.”

“Well done?”

“Well, her exact words were, ‘he didn’t fuck anything up.’ Practically _praise_ , from Tissaia.”

Geralt snorted.

“The volunteers are eating now, but if you’re too done, I’ll make my apologies to Nenneke and we can go. We’ve both had a long day.”

Hesitating, Geralt put his arms around Jaskier. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t know, or don’t want to disappoint me?” Jaskier asked. “I won’t be disappointed, any more than you were earlier. If you need to go home, we go home.”

“Too many people,” Geralt said. “Too many feelings. I need to rest, but fuck if I’m not… it’s not fair that I just get to say that and _leave_ , when none of these people have that choice.”

Geralt’s throat closed over as he thought about all the ways in which he lived in comparative luxury; luxury that he worked hard for, but that through a twist of fortune would have ended in a very different fate. Being placed within Eist’s foster network was pure luck, luck that had given him small advantages in general, and still more through his connection with Eist and his family. He wondered, not for the first time, what his life would have been like without that. He realised that what Jaskier was doing here was giving kids like him similar opportunities to the ones he had been given.

“The world looks at me as if I’m a hero just for doing my job, and here you are, the one that’s actually doing something real.”

“Don’t you put me on a pedestal,” Jaskier said softly. “I know you don’t like that either… if you want self-deprecating, all I do is throw money at it and turn up occasionally. I get it, I do. It can be overwhelming. We both have the privilege to be able to choose when and how to be involved, but surely that’s better than doing nothing? I _can’t_ do nothing. And if I pour everything I have into it and wind up living on the street myself, then I can’t help anyone.”

“But I don’t. I don’t do anything. I live comfortably in middle-class obscurity, Ciri’s and many of our own costs are entirely covered by Ciri’s…”

“What’s the name of your dance school?” Jaskier interrupted.

“… estate, I… what?”

“Your dance school. Cintra Dance offers a number of scholarships to these kids. Is that you? Two of the teachers come out and run a class in the hall here every week, too.”

“That’s… here?” Geralt asked.

Jaskier nodded. “You don’t do _nothing_. Thank you for coming tonight, this place is important to me. I’m sorry if it was too much.”

“No,” Geralt said, shaking his head. “Not too much. A reality check. It’s too easy to pretend this stuff isn’t happening, when it’s at a distance. To believe the person it’s happening to is directly responsible. I… it’s not a bad thing, having to reassess your biases, even if it’s hard.”

From the crinkles that suddenly creased at the corners of Jaskier’s eyes, he must have been grinning from ear to ear beneath his mask, and Geralt smiled back at him.

“Let’s get home,” Jaskier said. “It’s a shorter walk back, no detours this time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one down and oh gosh I keep having more ideas so well, there's that. I should probably write some down.
> 
> I've been working on the next chapter alongside this one so hopefully that won't be so far behind, but at the same time I've gone and accidentally inherited an extra volunteer role and possibly a new job so uhm. Expect delays to persist.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One, two, skip a week, a little softness for a treat.

“If you keep this up, I’m going to fall asleep,” Geralt advised, his gravelly voice breaking the comfortable silence. He was lying stretched out on his stomach on Jaskier’s bed clad only in boxer briefs, arms pillowing his head.

Jaskier smiled, continuing with his ministrations, something in between a massage and gentle stroking. Soft touches that were intimate, exploring, just as much as Geralt had the week before, yet lacking the focus or urgency that would lead to anything more.

Last week, Jaskier had shown Geralt another side to his life, and they had returned home after midnight, both too tired to do more than sleep. In the morning, Geralt had woken him with soft but insistent kisses, pulling away with a laugh when Jaskier tried to drag him back into bed without releasing his lips.

“Breakfast will get cold. Eat something first?” Geralt had said, a rising inflection making it clear that this was a question, rather than a demand.

The aroma of freshly cooked pancakes had hit Jaskier’s senses with enough force to make his mouth water, and Geralt had an assortment of toppings on offer.

“I didn’t know what you’d like, I figured I couldn’t go too far wrong with pancakes.”

“I’m not very good at breakfast, I always feel a bit… queasy in the morning,” Jaskier admitted with a shudder, taking a single pancake and some fruit. “This is very thoughtful. Thank you.”

The pancake was delicious, but Jaskier only managed a few bites before his stomach started to rebel, and he switched to picking at pieces of fruit instead, fresh and light and easier to tolerate. He watched Geralt eat for a minute, before deciding to see how long it would take to distract him enough to forget his breakfast altogether. He smothered a strawberry in syrup, side-eyeing Geralt while he raised it to his lips, tilting his head back to suck at its plump juiciness with suggestive intent.

“You’re dripping,” Geralt said, and Jaskier could hear the amusement in his voice.

Geralt took Jaskier’s plate and set it on the table alongside his own. “If you’ve finished eating and are hoping to be ravished, you only have to say.”

“Thought I was saying that,” Jaskier countered, tongue darting across his sticky, sugar-coated lips. “Do you really have a sweet tooth?”

Leaning close, Geralt reached a finger out to Jaskier’s chin to catch a drop of syrup before raising said finger to his own mouth and sucking the syrup off the tip. Jaskier was unable to tear his eyes away.

“I do,” Geralt said.

Jaskier’s head had emptied of rational thought. _Do what?_ he had been about to ask, when his mind caught up to itself for long enough to remember that he had asked Geralt a question. Jaskier suddenly realised that he had made an error in judgement: _he_ wasn’t the one doing the seducing here.

Geralt had proceeded to explore his body inch by inch, finding every sensitive area, working out how he liked to be touched with systematic precision, and then used what he learned to take him apart. Slowly, thoroughly, and completely. For all his experience, Jaskier’s past lovers hadn’t been particularly interested in finding out what he enjoyed in any great detail. For the most part, they had fallen into one of two categories: those who took what they wanted with little or no concern for their partners, and those who imagined some ideal they had built in their heads of who Jaskier was. That never ended well, either they never saw him at all, or if they did they were inevitably disappointed when he turned out to be as flawed and human as anybody else.

He had never had a lover take so much care with him before, and it made him wonder if anyone had ever done the same for _Geralt_.

His drowsy wolf flinched, snapping Jaskier out of his reverie.

“No toes,” came a rumbled objection.

With a light touch, Jaskier traced his fingertips over the instep of the foot he was holding, taking note of its large and hairy toes. “They aren’t so bad. Are you embarrassed, or is it something else?”

Geralt cracked open an eye and looked back at Jaskier over his shoulder. “Oversensitive. It… doesn’t hurt exactly, but it’s intensely uncomfortable. A bit like the head of your cock after coming. Only worse. And all the time.”

Gripping Jaskier’s arm, Geralt tugged gently, bringing him back up the bed to lie next to him, and Jaskier returned his attention to Geralt’s face and hair. “Hard limit?” he asked.

“Yes. Jaskier, this is bliss, but I thought you wanted to take control tonight.”

“I did. I am. I choose this,” Jaskier replied. “Last week, it seemed like… hmm. It felt like you got more out of looking after me, than you did out of anything we actually _did_. I wanted a way to give a little of that back. A way to let you know that… your time is a gift. One I appreciate.”

Geralt hummed, blinking in slow, lazy contentment, the gold in his eyes resembling the wolf Jaskier had dubbed him. He turned onto his side, pouring his feelings into a deep, slow kiss. “Thank you,” came the words, spoken so softly that Jaskier almost didn’t catch them. “You’re making it harder not to use the L-word, you know.”

“I… Geralt… what if I’m never ready?” Jaskier asked in a whisper.

“Then I don’t say it.” Geralt touched Jaskier’s face, drawing his eyes up so he could see that Geralt meant what he said. “There are more ways to say ‘I love you’ than with words. You’ve been doing it for the last hour. It’s… I want to. Fuck, I _need_ to. But I don’t have to use _those words_ to do it, and I am certainly not going to do something that hurts you over a handful of language that we happen to have ascribed a particular meaning to. If you _want_ to share that we can choose something different, just for us. It doesn’t have to be words at all.”

Rousing himself back to wakefulness, Geralt sat up, resting his back against the head of the bed, and pulled Jaskier into the space between his legs, bare chest to bare back. Taking Jaskier’s hands in his, Geralt crossed both of their arms around Jaskier to hold him in a tight and inescapable hug.

“Tell me no,” Geralt said.

“N –” Jaskier paused, frowning. How did you say no to saying no? He was quite content with the current situation, thank you very much. “If I say no, you’re going to stop, and I have objections.”

“Please, humour me for a minute.”

“Fine. No,” Jaskier said, rather half-heartedly, and Geralt released his arms instantly.

“I want you to know, really _know_ , that I will _never_ knowingly push you into anything you don’t want to do. I might make mistakes, and if I do, I’d like you to correct me. If I’m not sure, I’ll ask. If I see you twitch, or feel you tense up, _I will ask_. And you don’t have to explain or justify, unless you want to. I will respect any boundaries you set, until and unless you want to change them.”

“Like your toes,” Jaskier said, brow creased in thought.

“Like my toes,” Geralt agreed. “I didn’t necessarily have to explain why that was an issue for me, and I’d hope you would respect it regardless. The same goes for you.”

“What, then? If not that phrase?”

Geralt hesitated, and Jaskier leaned away, just far enough that he could turn his head to look at Geralt.

“There are things that are hard for me say too,” Geralt admitted. “That little set of words might be ready to overflow, but there is something you do that I like very much, and it feels like I am making myself vulnerable to ask for that. I know you wouldn’t be cruel, but a part me is afraid of being taunted. We can choose anything though. Words, touch, actions.”

Jaskier raised a hand to Geralt’s cheek and just held it there, watching while Geralt leaned into the touch, watching him back.

“This?” Jaskier asked softly.

Nodding, Geralt pressed his hand over the top of Jaskier’s, and then moved it to his chest, over his heart. “For distance.” Without letting go, he brought Jaskier’s hand up to his lips and kissed his palm, right in the centre. “If I brush my fingers across the back of yours in passing. Whenever you catch me watching you with what I have no doubt is a smile soppy enough to embarrass both of us. And… I’ve been thinking. I have trouble with pet names, I’ve been using love, but that feels strange, like I’m trying because I’m supposed to, and… when you called me… your _wolf_ , it just… and in light of your discomfort with the L-word, I thought maybe I could choose something different, and so I was thinking...”

“My wolf,” Jaskier said, testing it again, and he felt Geralt swallow heavily. Warm arms closed around him once more, and Geralt placed one hand over Jaskier’s heart. _I love you._ “Is that what you wanted to ask for? More wolf? Do you have something like that in mind for me?”

“Yes. How would you feel about bard?”

Jaskier took a minute to think.

“I’m not… sure? ‘My wolf’ is possessive, I don’t want to share that with anyone else, but bard? That… isn’t something you have any ownership over, it’s something you have to share with the whole _world_.”

“I know. I wouldn’t ask for that,” Geralt explained. “It’s the opposite of possessive. I took some time to listen to your music, and honestly, at first it was all just sounds, noise, I’m not… most music I find very jarring. You were right, last week, but I’m not sure if it hurts my ears, or something else. What interested me was the lyrics, the poetry of your songwriting, the evolution. The themes are deep, even the lighter ones tell a story, and with the D&D side of you as well… it’s a word that I think encompasses your very nature. It’s not a hat you wear that you can put aside, it’s _you_. Nobody should be allowed to cage that. Bard would be symbolic of that freedom and independence, and knowing that if you are with me, it’s because that’s what you _choose_. It’s _because_ you are free to choose.”

Jaskier was quiet, the meaning Geralt had managed to infuse into such a small word taking him by surprise.

“I thought I was the poet,” he murmured at last, eyes shining as he gazed into Geralt’s. “Bard it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello little gang, I would have had this up sooner but sort of fluffed around a bit working out whether to put this chapter first, or have the next chapter lead into it. Heads up, Geralt's not having much fun in the next instalment. 
> 
> Fun fact: the L-word, true story that is totally me, I run a country mile. If there's a word for romance-averse that's me I'm it.
> 
> I love Lambert, so I'm going to be extra nice to him for a bit.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello gang here's an update.  
> CONTENT WARNINGS: hit me up if I miss anything this chapter contains some heavy shit even if I haven't always gone into detail.  
> Mental health, involuntary psychiatric admission.  
> Lambert says ACAB/nonbinary rights.  
> Implied violence/death, depression, PTSD. We're back in the ambulance today, and *gestures vaguely* Geralt made a comment very early on about 'what's the worst thing you've ever seen?' which is a terrible question to ask anyone who works in emergency services because it usually involves children. Today, we go to that job. I have deliberately avoided going into detail because unfortunately I can describe it all too well and I have no intention of inflicting that sort of distress on others.

05:45, the dim light of his phone informed him. Tuesday. Second day shift. Geralt silence the alarm and rolled over to sit on the edge of his bed with a groan, waiting for his sleep-addled mind to clear. He rolled shoulders, still tense from a busy shift yesterday, knowing that today he probably wouldn’t get much of a break either. Yawn. _Coffee_.

Predictably, the moment they logged on, there was a job waiting. He couldn’t argue, it wasn’t fair to send a night shift out for a low-acuity case just before knock-off, but… sometimes, it would be nice to have time to check the truck properly - or at all - before turning out. Mandatory requirements, drug counts, equipment checks, expectations. Policies that presented an impossible paradox of both turning out immediately in a state of perfect operational readiness, without having the time to make it so. 

Geralt growled under his breath, and Lambert tossed him the keys. “No rest for the wicked. Why don’t you drive today, old man?”

“Fuck,” Geralt said, realizing that his attitude was spilling over. He shook his head in an attempt to clear the fog of his thoughts, but there was an edge to his mood that he couldn’t dislodge, as if he hadn’t had enough sleep, or was slightly hungover. “Yeah. Sorry.”

Lambert put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze, much to Geralt’s confusion. Why was he being _nice_? Lambert was never nice.

Their first case was a straightforward transfer between hospitals, no thinking required. Neither Lambert or the patient spoke much on the way, so if wasn’t for the infernal radio persistently chattering away, it would have been quiet. Geralt turned the volume down to barely audible and tried to tune it out, wishing he could use something like Jaskier’s ear defenders, but as well as the radio, he needed to hear what was going on in the back of his ambulance.

As soon as they cleared their first case, they were dispatched on a second.

“Eldersea, job for you in Cintra, police request, involuntary psych transfer, details on your screen. Code 2.”

Geralt ran worst-case scenarios through his head while he drove, reminding himself of the things they needed to check, possible alternative diagnoses, drug calculations, contraindications, side effects. Hoping the police in attendance would be reasonable, that could be a bit hit and miss.

Miss, as it turned out. When they pulled up to the address, two standard issue police officers stood on either side of a much smaller person, tangled hair and spitting fury, pulling ineffectively against their grip. One was older, tall, muscle that was shifting to fat; the other younger and perfectly fit, flexed biceps filling out the sleeves of his uniform shirt. Lambert looked down at his own muscular physique and winced, and then looked at the even broader Geralt.

“Fuck. Try to look a little less like a cop,” Lambert grumbled. As he opened the door, voices drifted toward them, and he moved straight for their patient, not bothering with equipment.

“No, you can’t. You’re going to hospital,” one blue uniform was saying.

“Listen you fucking assholes, I need my phone!”

“That’s not happening. Stop fighting, or –”

“Or what?” The person snapped. “You’re already making me go to hospital. I just want my fucking _phone_.”

 _“GENTLEMEN,”_ Lambert interrupted, glaring at each man in turn.

“Since it seems we’re going to hospital and not lockup,” Lambert said, almost as unimpressed as his patient, “it’s not going to hurt you to give ground over a phone.”

“Not happening. She’ll try to run,” insisted the older uniform. Sergeant, Lambert translated from his epaulettes, then glancing at the single stripe on the younger man’s shoulders.

“What’s your name?” Lambert asked the middle figure gently.

“Fuck off.”

Old Cop smirked. “Sarah Clawdry. She’s not –” Lambert glared at him until he stopped making his mouth noises.

“You don’t have to tell me. How about pronouns? At least let me not misgender you.”

Hesitation, then a quiet “they/them.”

“I’m Lambert, he or they. I’m sorry this is happening to you.”

“You’re still going to make me go though,” they whispered.

“I’m afraid so, I don’t have a choice either, but what I can do is make this as easy on you as possible. Have you had bad experiences with hospitals before?”

They nodded.

“Then I’ll do my best to make sure that doesn’t happen today. I’m sorry, I know it’s not easy. So you want your phone, is there anything else you need from inside? Wallet? Keys? What about a charger?”

“Wallet. On the table in the kitchen,” they said.

“Would you be willing to let my partner go in and have a look for them while we talk, or do you need to do it yourself?”

“Me. Please, I don’t like anyone in my space –” they were becoming agitated again, eyes darting about.

“That’s okay, don’t apologise. The police are worried you’re going to run, they won’t let you go alone. So how about we let the young Constable here escort us. I promise not to judge, and Constable Thugly is going to promise to behave respectfully. Would that be all right?”

They nodded, sniffling. The younger police officer of the two frowned at the insults, but he was looking a little more thoughtful. The older one seemed annoyed, his face flushing, but he didn’t contradict Lambert’s instructions. In less than a minute, the young paramedic had turned their scrappy, combative nuisance-job into somebody capable of talking and co-operating rather than throwing insults. Someone, Geralt hoped, that they were starting to see as a human being. Lambert turned to Geralt, who had held back, not wanting to overwhelm their patient. “Set the bed up. You’re on board with this, yeah?”

Geralt inclined his head in acknowledgement. “More than on board. Lam…”

Lambert waved him away. “Later.”

When Lambert and the younger officer re-emerged from the house, Lambert kept himself between his charge and the policemen. He stopped at the side door of the ambulance, letting them look inside.

“So I have a proposal. You can choose the bed, or any chair you want, but I’d like to teach young officer old and jaded here a thing or two about treating human beings like human beings instead of inconveniences to his Very Important Day. If you don’t want him close though, he can sit in the front. It’s your choice.”

“I need to –” younger cop tried, still not quite realising just how far Lambert had him on the back foot.

“Shut the fuck up,” Lambert said cheerfully, leaping up into the ambulance to help his patient with their seat belt. They chose the bed, and Geralt could just see a shy smile forming under the fall of long, matted hair. Geralt stepped in to back his partner up.

“He knows what he’s doing, don’t take it personally. Actually, on second thought, it’s Lambert. Take it personally. Look, like it or not, this _is_ part of your job, and I know you get training. Instead of letting that go out the window because some of your colleagues are assholes about it, _Watch and learn_.”

Geralt drove slowly, listening to the conversation in the back with interest. Lambert learned that their chosen name was Wren. They had broken up with a boyfriend a few months earlier and didn’t drive, making it difficult to access their usual treatment and support. Things had just kept spiralling down until the police were called over a potential suicide threat.

“It was dumb I guess,” Wren said, “But I didn’t know what to do. I feel like I’ve been screaming out for help for weeks, nobody listens until it gets that bad.”

“I would like to say you can always call us, but… I know that’s a bit ‘luck of the draw’. If you’re afraid of being hospitalised, that’s a risk. Whatever the hospital decides today - they might want to keep you in for a while until you can look after yourself, but they also have a support system, social work sort of thing. I can hook you up with that, if you want. It would give you someone to call to help you figure stuff out before it gets this bad.”

Geralt’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. Eight months they had been working together now, and Geralt tried to work out why he’d never seen this side of Lambert before. Was it always there, and he just hadn’t noticed? His empathy was putting Geralt to _shame_ , and it was sitting as uncomfortably as his feelings at Jaskier’s youth centre had been.

By the time they arrived at the hospital, Lambert and Wren were talking and laughing like old friends.

After Geralt prepared the ambulance for the next patient, he found Lambert in the long, narrow room allocated for ambulance staff to complete their documentation. Lambert the sole occupant, and he was frowning at the screen of a tablet, stabbing at the screen and swearing occasionally at the clunky software. Geralt sympathised. The system was a headache for end users, being designed more for data collection. 

“You did good Lam,” Geralt said.

“I know. It’s too easy when they forget one of them is supposed to be the good cop. As much as I love sticking it to those assholes though, people shouldn’t have to suffer their ignorance first.” Lambert paused before turning to focus his attention on Geralt. “You wanna talk about what’s going on with you? You’re usually in good spirits, but you’ve been a bit off this last week. Is everything okay?”

 _Lambert thinks I’m depressed._ Geralt shook his head at the fog that wasn’t clearing again. _What if I am?_

“I… I don’t know.”

“Do you want to talk? Grab a drink or something to eat after work, if you want.”

Geralt nodded. “I don’t have to pick Ciri up until eight. Yeah, that sounds good.”

Lambert nodded, turning his attention back to his task with a frown.

4pm. They had barely managed ten minutes at the branch all day to restock, and their single attempt at a meal break had been interrupted five minutes in.

“Cintra. Police request code 1 for a cardiac arrest. Information is on your screen. I’m sorry.”

Lambert pressed buttons, reading the case notes aloud, and froze. 

“Fuck, it’s bad,” he said. “If you want to call out on this one…”

“No, we can’t delay. Besides, I’d rather not be responsible for inflicting this on another crew. I will manage.”

Nodding his head, Lambert keyed in the route. Five minutes later they were approaching a scene with multiple police cars, flashing red and blue lights and a cordoned off street. For the next hour, Geralt’s training took over and he had very little time to think of anything else.

Changing at the end of the shift, Geralt and Lambert were both quiet. Geralt scrubbed at his face with his hand, the fatigue he had woken with this morning still lingering.

“We should debrief. Do you still want to get that drink?” Lambert asked.

“Yes, but I’m going to shower first.”

“Geralt,” Vesemir’s voice called from the doorway. “Can I see you in my office before you go?”

Lambert looked up, frowning at Vesemir, and shook his head. Vesemir arched his eyebrows, waiting for an explanation.

“We just did _that job_ ,” Lambert said, his voice cold. “I don’t suppose anybody bothered to tell you. They’ve organised a debrief for comms staff, and the cops get their own, but not us of course, they couldn’t even fucking take us out of service to get home after the shift ended! Maybe, if we’re lucky, we’ll get a call from peer support in a day or two.”

“The fuck? Why didn’t you call me?” Vesemir snapped.

“We shouldn’t fucking _have_ _to_ run to daddy to beg for special treatment every time somebody decides we’re robots,” Lambert snapped back.

“No. You shouldn’t. Both of you, in my office.” Vesemir turned on his heel, stalking back in the direction he had come from.

Geralt felt like he was walking a tightrope, balanced somewhere between tears and punching a wall. His throat was hot and tight, his mind felt as if a jar of silver balls had been tipped over, scattering in all directions so that he was incapable of connecting one thought to another. He shook his head, and Lambert took his arm.

“Take a minute. Go have your shower. We’ll wait for you, I suppose the old man’s going to want some paperwork to escalate anyway. Not that anything will change. I’ll take care of that.”

Geralt took his time in the shower, letting the water wash away what it could of the day’s stress while he wrestled his emotions back under control. They debriefed with Vesemir, who promised to smash heads before kicking Lambert out and closing the door again.

“I’m sorry to bring this up today in light of what’s happened, but it can’t wait. This conversation is off the record, the timing is terrible, but if you aren’t here they’re going to go ahead and investigate without you. There’s been a misconduct allegation about an inappropriate relationship with a patient. Tell me your side in confidence, and I’ll make sure you get represented fairly.”

“Never rains but it pours, does it?” Geralt said wryly. “I should have told you already, but it’s only recent. Remember that job I did with Eskel last year? I followed up on the case the next day, and then helped him out when his manager was riding roughshod over his rights as a patient. We kept in contact and have been formally dating for a couple of weeks. I didn’t know at the time, but he’s a famous musician and he fired the manager over it. The same manager has a history of vindictive behaviour, it’s probably come from him. Jaskier predicted something like this would happen.”

“Jaskier. That’s a name even I’ve heard. Fucking unbelievable. I’ve been asked, also ‘off the record’ to scour your record to look for anything out of line.” Vesemir held up his hand, staving off Geralt’s objection. “I know, you look carefully enough at anybody’s file and you’ll find _something_ , it’s the wrong way to go about it. They can’t legally single you out like that. Unfortunately, it’s been a successful strategy in the past, and some managers think they can get away with anything. I think somebody is gunning for your job, but if it’s been six months the ethics team will have your back. Anything else?”

“Yennefer called me out on going back again the next day. He was alone, didn’t have anyone to bring him stuff to keep him from getting bored senseless so I took a few things in for him. Still nothing I haven’t done before. Then his manager pulled some stupid stunt involving the media making security an issue. I advocated with the nursing staff, they let him use the service lift and the staff cafeteria, exceptions that are in their protocols anyway. Then I helped him get set up at home when he was released. Not something I’ve done before, but he didn’t want anyone else in his home. Understandably, he’d just been betrayed by his manager, and didn’t trust enough to go through a nursing agency or similar. It all seemed reasonable at the time. There was interest at first, of course there was, but nobody can fault me for acting on that when I didn’t. We kept in touch, saw each other roughly once a week, never alone. Nothing more than talk happened until two weeks ago. I can’t play it off as just friendship though. It was never that, and if that’s not enough, too bad. It is what it is.”

Sighing, Vesemir nodded. “It does put it in a bit of a grey area, but it’s not without precedence in the medical field. I think it will be okay. Look, today’s job has obviously sent you spinning, and I don’t doubt it’s bringing back past events. Take the rest of the week off, get onto some support and then see how you go. I’ll take care of contacting the union on your behalf and they can represent you until you’re ready to come back. This brings up another issue though. Jaskier is _famous_. When your story goes public, you become an instant celebrity and that has implications for us. Not your fault, we’ll deal with it. Just have to… plan. As if I don’t have enough to do. All right, I’ve taken you out of your night shifts. If you need any more time off, make it medical and keep me updated. Now, scram.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *insert obligatory excuse for delays*  
> My laptop died so access to a computer for proper typing is limited at the moment, I am sporadically writing notes on my phone which is not great because I tend to just write what I feel like and then I have to come up with ways of tying it all together again. I'm reasonably ahead on the next chapter though. I miss your comments, please spam me!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back with a little more Lambert who I love.
> 
> Content warnings for the previous chapter still apply:  
> Implied violence/traumatic death, depression, PTSD themes, reference to Lambert's childhood.  
> Non-binary Lambert and associated misgendering.

_I feel eighty_ , Geralt thought to himself on the way out the door. The day had been a rollercoaster by any measure, and after everything else, now his career was on the line. It wasn't having the impact he expected, and he wasn't sure if that was a measure of his current state of mind, or the fact that it wasn't unexpected. There was even a measure of relief that Valdo Marx's retaliation had started, the waiting had been a stress he hadn't realised he was carrying. He rubbed at his eyes, the fatigue he had been wearing all day compounding as the adrenaline surge that had carried him through the last case ebbed again. 

He found Lambert in the kitchen, tapping at his phone, lips curved up in a sardonic smile. Lambert raised his head as Geralt walked in.

"Hey, remember Tweedledum and Tweedledumber from this morning?"

Tired enough to do away with words where they weren't necessary, Geralt grunted his assent.

"The muscly one just asked me out."

"Bullshit, when did you have time to - how - _what?_ " Geralt sputtered, before shaking his head. _It was Lambert_ was enough explanation for any of the chaos that surrounded Lambert. "Whatever. Are you going?"

"Fuck no, I can't stand cops."

"You seem to have that problem with anyone in authority, dunno why Vesemir doesn't throw you off the roof to be honest." Geralt cringed the moment the words were out, but Lambert just grinned up at him. 

"Still want to talk?" Lambert asked, waving his hand at the general vicinity of the branch. "Away from all this?"

"Cafe on 3rd street? It's quiet at this hour, and it's right where I have to pick Ciri up." Geralt said, barely waiting for an acknowledgement before continuing out the door. His head was buzzing, and he had a strong urge to escape to the isolation of his car, familiar and quiet, for a few minutes alone.

  
To Geralt's relief, the small cafe was deserted when he arrived. It contained an eclectic collection of sofas and coffee tables that gave it a comfortable, homely feel. The walls had been put into service as a community noticeboard, advertising events at small, independent theatres, protests and outdoor events, student accommodation and barters. A skeleton staff of one was using the lull to prepare for the evening rush, and after they ordered drinks, Geralt asked for a plate of fruit to share. He sometimes came here to wait for Ciri when the chaotic noise of the dance studio became too much for him, and the place was familiar enough for him to relax into a comfortable chair.

"So." Lambert started in immediately. "What did the old man want?"

Rumours were going to be flying soon enough. "Misconduct. I have been accused of having an inappropriate relationship with a patient."

Lambert choked on his coffee. "Misconduct? _You?_ Did you do it?"

"No," Geralt said, not above creating a little melodrama. "I am currently having an inappropriate relationship with a _former_ patient."

Lambert barked a laugh. "Huh. I bet that surprised the old man. Did he ever tell you why he kept us working together so long?"

Geralt shook his head.

"Wanted me to learn from mister goody two shoes. You do everything by the book. I... Well. Don't. He was hoping you'd rub off on me, but he also thought I could teach you something."

"You have," Geralt admitted, thinking about how differently their second case of the day might have gone if Lambert hadn't been there. "You know, I didn't like you much at first, but you did always have one redeeming quality," he said with a sly smile.

"Just one?"

"The food. Doesn't matter what time of day or night you can find something decent to eat."

"I guess the way to a man's heart really is through his stomach," Lambert said dryly. A tray of freshly cut fruit was placed on the table, along with some small bowls of what, if they were accompanied by bread, Lambert would have called dip. They picked up a strawberry and cautiously dipped it into a bowl of something thick and creamy-white. The clean, sweet taste of ripe strawberry mixed with thick, sweet meringue and a hint of cheesecake settled on his tongue in an explosion of flavour. Lambert's eyes widened.

"What the fuck, Geralt? What is this and why didn't I know about it? You can't just go around praising a person's culinary taste and then one-upping them like this, that's just _rude_." 

Geralt pointed to a sauce with an orange hue. It was the only one that Geralt hadn't touched. "Try that one with some banana. Just... don't ask what's in it."

Lambert looked at Geralt suspiciously, but did as Geralt recommended. The saucy had a sweet, tangy orange flavour that somehow seemed familiar, but he couldn't identify it. "Mmpf. This is fucking foreplay, and I _definitely_ need to know what's in it."

"You can enjoy the sauce, or I can tell you what's in it. You can't have both," Geralt said with a chuckle.

"That makes no sense. Get on with it, you were telling me how fabulous I am."

"Your food-finding is fabulous. I thought you were lazy. You're not though, you just... you do things _differently_ to the way I do. I zero in on details. Chest pain, monitor, obs, meds, allergies, IV. You look at the bigger picture. The environment, relationships, cultural differences, social needs. You get around to the other stuff too, it's just not your first priority."

Geralt hesitated, a little uncomfortable at having to confront some of his own flaws. "If I'd taken the lead with Wren today, I doubt it would have gone so well, and it's not... that wouldn't have been fair. On them. Add to the trauma of being forced into something against their will. How did you know to ask about pronouns?"

Lambert shrugged. "Didn't. Got lucky."

"And you?" Geralt pressed.

"And me," Lambert confirmed. "I figured you probably wouldn't be a complete dick about it."

"You're not... _out_ at work," Geralt said carefully, and Lambert's jaw tightened for a moment before relaxing again.

"It's not a secret. People make assumptions and I can't be fucked carrying the education flag the whole damn time. 'He' is convenient and I put up with it, it's easier than correcting people all the time, but it's not _right_."

"Your idea of 'educating' isn't real gentle, Lam."

"Fuck off. It's not my job to drag the whole world kicking and screaming into this century. Vesemir knows, he uses they all the time. The rest of you don't even think about it, I doubt anyone even _noticed_."

Geralt, at least, had the grace to look sheepish. "You're right. I didn't. I'm sorry."

Sighing, Lambert leaned back in their chair. _Their chair_ , Geralt reminded himself. Lambert deserved that respect, even if Lambert didn't seem to think so. "Forget it. This patient you're fucking. Anyone I met?"

"Do you have to be so crude?" Geralt said, rolling his eyes. "No, it was a job with Eskel. Nothing more happened until a couple of weeks ago. _What?_ "

Lambert was staring at him. "Your eyes went all soft and gooey, they look like half-cooked eggs. Man, you are _gone_."

"Shut up," Geralt said, feeling his cheeks grow pink.

"Nah, 's a good look on you. Proof you are, in fact, human." They stabbed at another piece of fruit with a fork. "You can trust Vesemir, you know. He'll look out for you. Just be honest."

"How do you know so much about Vesemir?" Geralt asked. "You haven't been around long enough."

"You really wanna know? It's not pretty," Lambert said by way of warning. They touched the tip of an old, faded scar, tracing it from just above their eye all the way down to their jawline. When Geralt nodded, they launched into their own history. It was a story that had parallels to the last case they had attended, only Lambert had survived. Vesemir was the attending paramedic, and he had chosen to involve himself in a young and furious Lambert's life. Put them through therapy. Convinced them to stay in school. Lectured them when they fucked up. 

"I hated him, and I never stopped letting him know it," Lambert finished. "He kept coming back anyway. Without him... I dunno where I'd be, but it's a fair bet this isn't it."

Geralt's thoughts swirled. "How do you cope?" he blurted out. "With jobs like today? Why aren't you falling to pieces, and I am?"

"Experience I guess? I've been dealing with the chaos inside my brain, PTSD and whatever else, since I was a kid. You need help. Don't fall into the bullshit strength/weakness dichotomy of 'Man. Strong.' It takes _strength_ to admit you need help."

Geralt frowned, not least of all because, well, a) that advice came from Lambert of all people, but also because b) for all his dedication to the contrary, he suspected that was exactly what he was doing. _Real men cry._ It was easy enough to apply to other people, but himself? 

"Help," he repeated. "I'll get help."

Lambert nodded, finishing their coffee just as their phone buzzed. Whatever they saw there made them smile. "You okay to be left alone? I have a date, and I've just been granted a head start."

"Head start?" Geralt asked, confused. "For a date?"

"Parkour challenge. Fucker's half cat."

"Parkour? Climbing buildings? Is that legal?"

"Gods, you are such a fucking hall monitor sometimes. Yes, _Dad,_ it is legal. Trespassing, on the other hand..." Lambert leered at him.

Geralt waved them off. "Okay okay. Go, I'll be fine. I want to go and... check on Ciri, anyway." _Make sure she's okay._

"Later, asshole," Lambert said, flipping their finger back at Geralt and heading out the door with a decided swagger. Geralt paid, gathered up his belongings and what he could of his wits, and made the short walk through brisk evening air down to Ciri's dance studio. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fruit dips, they're a thing. The cheesecake meringue one is marshmallow fluff mixed with cream cheese. If you want the orange one, I'm sorry, Geralt is right. It's a Heisenburg uncertainty recipe. You can know whats in it, or you can enjoy it. You cannot do both.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Competent Jaskier  
> Continuing content warnings around PTSD/mental health. This chapter takes a dip inside Geralt's head. Mentions of trauma, violence, death, flashbacks/panic attack and Geralt picturing Ciri's death. No actual violence or graphic descriptions.

Parents were not usually permitted to sit in on regular classes, and although there was one studio with its own viewing window, Ciri was not in it. Geralt, perhaps a little emboldened by Lambert's taunting about _rules_ , decided that today he had enough of an excuse to break them.

He slipped soundlessly into the biggest studio. One of the teachers, a petite and serious woman in her early twenties, nodded, acknowledging his presence. The other, looking more youthful than his thirty-five years, was a favourite with parents and students alike. Athletic and acrobatic, he had enough energy and enthusiasm to rival a room full of pre-schoolers. The only trouble, of course, being that they all wanted to emulate him. Goals were all very well, but kids had little sense of _safety_.

Geralt sat on the floor, leaning up against a wall where he would be out of the way, and his eyes sought Ciri out. She was waiting her turn on the long mat, not without a great deal of fidgeting. As each student's turn came up, the teacher barked out a string of commands for them to demonstrate, making small corrections as they went. Ciri grinned widely when it was her turn, and her run-up was enthusiastic. She wobbled a little on a landing, and he heard the teacher giving her instructions, but his mind was too full of Ciri to notice what was said.

On her next turn, Ciri landed flat on her back with a thud. She bounced quickly to her feet again, laughing, but for a moment after she landed she was so still that Geralt _froze_. The shape she made on the floor was familiar: he had seen the same thing, earlier in the day. A lifeless shape on the floor. The memory of the smell of blood, a sickening, coppery tang, pervaded his senses, and his mind flew from there through every violently traumatic incident he had attended in the past, only now they were all superimposed with Ciri's face. His chest constricted, and he bent forward as the air was sucked from his lungs. An invisible hand clamped his throat shut, the room full of chattering teenagers, such a normal, happy sound, suddenly so dissonant.

He didn't remember getting up off the floor, or opening the door, and suddenly found himself in the large, open waiting room with more noise. Talking parents, a toddler banging a toy on the floor, music at the front desk. An unidentified shape attempted to talk to him, but he didn't register who, just shook his head, aiming for escape, the nearest door.

Cold air hit him as he stepped outside, and the tight feeling he was wrapped in eased a little. He took off up the street at speed, looking for his car. He made it two blocks away before remembering he had parked much closer, and realised he was going in entirely the wrong direction. He turned around, retracing his steps back past the dance school and towards the cafe. 

Shaking hands fumbled with keys, and they fell to the gutter before he could unlock the car. The great wracking sobs he had been trying to suppress until he made it somewhere _safe_ wrenched control of his lungs and he doubled over, gulping for air, suppressing the louder, violent keening that desperately wanted to erupt. Scrabbling on the ground for his keys, thanking any gods that existed for remote unlocking, he pushed the button and pulled the door open, squeezing himself inside.

It was a tight fit, seat too far forward. _Why is the seat so far forward?_ Did he drive it here like this? He looked blankly at the steering wheel. It was wrong, somehow. Smaller? He moved his seat back into its usual position, and instead of the resistance he usually encountered, it slid back rapidly _what the fuck?_

 _This is not my car,_ Geralt registered. He hurriedly moved the seat forward and got out again, clicking the remote on his keys, looking for the flash this time. Across the street. The only thing this car had in common with his own was the colour. 

Crossing the road, he threw the door open and sat inside, rocking. Fifteen minutes later, he had tried every trick he could think of to calm himself. Every time he felt like he was starting to get things under control, another image of Ciri, sprawled on the floor, would flash across his mind. Ciri. How had coming here been such a mistake? He had needed to see her, needed to see her safe, to drive the unwanted images from his mind, but instead of chasing away his own ghosts, he'd somehow made it _worse_. 

He checked the time. Another hour before she finished. No need to panic. A frantic giggle welled up in his chest. That ship had sailed. No need to panic _more_. An hour before he would have to drive home. _I can't drive like this. How do we get home? Taxi? Leave the car here?_ Call Eskier? Jaskel? _Fucking hell how did I confuse that?_

He called Eskel. No, Eskel has a day shift tomorrow. _Fuck_. He hung up again and called Jaskier. 

"Hello beautiful," rang Jaskier's melodious tenor.

"---," Geralt replied. _More fuck_. He stared at the screen of his phone in consternation, sounds refusing to move beyond the constriction in his throat.

"Geralt!" Jaskier shouted, "You butt dialled me, you technologically incompetent ninnyhammer! Pick up the phone, or I'm going to start reciting the Kama Sutra right where anyone who has their ear pressed to your ass can hear it!"

Caught half way between laughter and a sob and able to vocalise neither, Geralt hung up and sent Jaskier a message instead.

  
Geralt: Sorry. Rough day at work. Are you free?

Jaskier: Hey you. Everything okay? I'm free, you want to come over? I thought Yenn was working tonight?

Jaskier watched the little dots indicating that Geralt was typing something stop and start for several minutes before a reply came through.

Geralt: No not god company

Geralt: Good dammit

Geralt: Fuck. No not okay Yenn working late can't come over 

Geralt: Cant do words

Geralt: Or punctuation apparently

Jaskier: Can I come over there?

Geralt: Shouldn't ask. Need help. Not home. At dance.

Jaskier: You most certainly should ask. Do you have your car?

Geralt: Yes cant drive. Not safe.

Jaskier: Half an hour. Text me the address, I'll take a taxi. Hold tight.

  
Jaskier called for a ride and scrambled frantically to put an overnight bag together.

  
His white-haired wolf sat in the passenger seat of his car. His appearance matched his messages: he looked _wrong_. Drawn in on himself. Shoulders hunched over slightly, head down. When he saw Jaskier approaching, an attempt at a smile that was a twisted, bitter parody of his usual calm, controlled confidence. The eyes that looked back at Jaskier's were filled with distress.

Jaskier felt a momentary disquiet, and pushed his self-doubt aside. He could handle this. Geralt needed him. Geralt had asked. He opened the door and stepped in close, reaching out. The grip of Geralt's hand felt like a vice.

"Hey. I don't know what's going on, but I do know what it's like to be so overwhelmed in my head that the rest of me stops functioning. Thank you for calling me," Jaskier said softly. He winced as Geralt's grip tightened even further. 

"What time does Ciri finish?"

"Nnnn. Nnnh..." Geralt looked at Jaskier, swallowing helplessly. 

"Nine?" Jaskier asked, and Geralt nodded.

"Half an hour. Right. Where's the dance school?"

Geralt pointed down the street.

"Okay. Now, I need you to be honest with me and tell me what you _need_ , without worrying about what is _possible_. Can I leave you alone for a few minutes to go in and collect Ciri, or do you need me to stay with you?"

Geralt drew in a slow, shuddering breath and pulled Jaskier's hand towards himself. "Stay," he whispered. "But -"

"Shh, no buts, I'll figure it out," Jaskier said. "Let go of my hand and i'll sit inside the car with you, get the heater going."

"Nnnn - " Geralt whined at the loss of contact, but Jaskier moved quickly, dumping his bag on the back seat. He sat in the front, and pulled Geralt as close as humanly possible in the awkward confines of a small car. 

Pulling out his phone, Jaskier called the dance school without really thinking it through first. 

"Yes, hello. My name is... oh dear, this is going to sound very strange... I'm sorry, let me try again. Hello, I'm calling on behalf of Geralt Rivia. His daughter Ciri is at dance and I'm afraid he's unwell. He's outside in his car, do you think you could... yes? Oh yes, thank you. That would be fantastic. Wait, hang on, no, I don't think he would want to - yes. Maybe make it a few minutes early so we can miss the rush. Thank you so much. Oh wait, we're parked down the street, is there some - we can? Wonderful, thank you. We'll be waiting."

He turned his attention back to Geralt. "They're going to bring her out, and I can park in one of the reserved spaces in front. A lovely person named Alex offered to pull Ciri out of class early, but I didn't think you'd -" Geralt was shaking his head emphatically. "No, that's what I said. They'll escort her out at the end of class. How long have you been sitting out here in the cold?" 

  
They didn't speak much while waiting. Geralt not at all, he sought physical contact, rhythmically squeezing at Jaskier's hand or anywhere else his hands could reach. Jaskier was content to wait, there wasn't much he felt he could do right now, without manhandling Geralt out of the car - for what? A hug, before putting him back in again? He stroked Geralt's hair, annoyed that the confined space of the vehicle left him little room to physically comfort the man the way he wanted to. 

Time passed slowly, and eventually Ciri bounced outside ahead of an adult. Jaskier wound down the window. "Jaskierrrrrrrrrrrr!" Ciri shouted. "Can I show you off yet?"

"Not today cub, your dad needs us. Hop in and give him a hug. Is this the wonderfully helpful Alex?"

Ciri nodded, threw her bag in the back seat on top of Jaskier's and jumped into the seat behind Geralt. She wrapped her arms around his neck from behind.

Alex was staring at Jaskier in disbelief.

"Alex. Thank you for your kindness. I'm not kidnapping them, I promise. I'm dating Geralt. It's not public knowledge yet though, and I think he'd appreciate it if you kept that to yourself for now. For Ciri's sake. The longer we can keep the media hounds away from them, the better, yes?"

Alex nodded mutely, and Jaskier blew her a kiss. "Thank you, dear heart. Now, I need to get these angels home. Seat belt, cub!"

  
It wasn't long before they pulled into Geralt's driveway, and in spite of the circumstances, Jaskier couldn't help smiling. Only good things had happened to him here, the last six months already held some of his fondest memories. Since Geralt had first stayed at his place a fortnight ago, he hadn't been back. That would have to change. 

Jaskier grabbed his own and Ciri's bags from the back seat and unlocked the front door of the house while Ciri coaxed Geralt out of the car. He flicked at light switches until he found a combination that wasn't too bright, dumped the bags on the floor by the stairs, and turned to pull Geralt into his arms. He was... not terribly responsive. 

"Sorry," Geralt said, his voice flat and listless.

"No sorries," Jaskier said, stroking his hair. "I'm here. I _want_ to be here, okay? I've got you."

Out of the corner of his eye, Jaskier saw Ciri waching from the foot of the stairs, her face contorted with worry, and he beckoned her over.

" _We've_ got you," he corrected, including her in the hug. Geralt stiffened.

"No. Ciri - burden..." The words came out choked off, one at a time, but Jaskier knew how to handle that. Excluding Ciri was a terrible idea, and he wasn't having it.

"Trust me. Darling, please. Ciri needs to support you too. Shutting her out will hurt her. Involving her is not shifting responsibility onto her, show her that's it's okay for adults to ask for help too."

Ciri nodded her vigorous agreement, green eyes shining with tears, nose pressed firmly into Geralt's chest. 

Geralt sighed his agreement, his tension easing again, and Jaskier felt a hand grip his waist, squeezing. He continued carding his fingers through Geralt's hair, trying to think of something that Geralt would find grounding, when he realised he was already doing it. He gave the long white hair an experimental tug, and Geralt sighed again, pressing closer. 

"Would you teach me to braid his hair?" he asked Ciri. "I think it would help him relax."

Relieved to have something to do, Ciri ran upstairs to fetch supplies while Jaskier settled Geralt on the floor in front of the sofa and sat down behind him. 

"Breathe, and focus on my hands," Jaskier instructed, combing his fingers through Geralt's hair with enough grip to pull lightly on the roots. "Is this good? Harder? Softer?"

"Harder," Geralt said thickly, and Jaskier complied. 

"Well done, I'm going to keep talking if that's okay. If it bothers you, please let me know. I know when I am agitated, it helps to keep my hands busy. Would you like something to hold or to squeeze? Or you can just hold onto my legs if you want, do whatever you need to and I won't mind a few bruises either, I don't want you to worry. Now focus on your breathing, nice and slow... good, you are doing so well. You don't have to talk, just focus on your breathing and my hands."

Ciri returned, and Jaskier made room for her so they were each sitting to one side of Geralt. She divided his hair down the middle, demonstrating on one side while Jaskier copied on the other, keeping up his melodioius monologue. It soon became apparent that whenever Geralt's distress increased, so did his grip on Jaskier's leg, and Jaskier used it as a guide to switch his rambling back to focus on Geralt's breathing until he calmed again.

Pleased that the dexterity of his musician's fingers aided his learning, Jaskier picked up Ciri's first lesson quickly. Brushing the first set of braids out, Ciri showed him another technique, and then another. Jaskier's favourite was a simple two-stranded twist, but for Geralt he chose one Ciri called a fishtail. Ciri's side was much neater than Jaskier's, and he brushed it out again.

"I think that would look good as a single braid instead of one on each side," Jaskier mused. "What do you think, am I ready to try on my own?" 

Ciri nodded, gave Geralts' hair a pat and kissed his cheek. "Night, dad."

Geralt caught her hand and gave it a squeeze. "I'm sorry, kid."

Ciri scowled at him. "No. Instead of worrying so much about being a burden, maybe you can set me a good example of men who are capable of leaning on others instead of bottling up their feelings."

Mouth gaping, Geralt turned to Jaskier, who shrugged, trying not to laugh. "I told you."

Geralt caught Ciri's arm and pulled her back for a hug.

"I don't think he has the words right now little one, but that looks to me like a thank you."

Nodding, Geralt reached back over his shoulder to pull Jaskier into the hug too. 

Ciri kissed the tip of Geralt's nose. "Love you, dad."

"You too." The words fell heavily, and if the accompanying smile was sad, it was also genuine.

Ciri left them alone, and Jaskier rearranged himself behind Geralt, tugging the comb through his hair. Geralt leant against Jaskier's knee, and hands that had gripped his legs through his jeans before now sought more direct contact, questing fingers finding their way to stroke at the coarsely-haired skin of his calves.

When Jaskier was done, he tied the final braid off with one of Ciri's brightly coloured hair ties. Yellow, to match Geralt's eyes. 

"Here, you can get up off the floor now," Jaskier said.

Geralt shook his head slightly, turning in place until his head was resting on Jaskier's thigh, arms wrapping around him. 

"Oh. Ok then," Jaskier said, falling silent and continuing to stroke Geralt's hair as he seemed to want. He let his mind wander, and typically, it wandered towards his music. He lost track of time, until Geralt spoke.

"Don't stop."

Jaskier looked in confusion at the hand that was still stroking Geralts hair. "Stop what?"

"You were singing. You stopped," Geralt said.

"Ah. I didn't realise I was. It doesn't bother you?"

"No. It's... music is... a lot. Too many sounds, all at once. Too much. Just... your voice. Singing. It's nice."

" _Oh_. Well then. I _am_ flattered. My thoughts were wandering, I'm not even sure what I was thinking about..."

"Is that how you write your songs?" Geralt asked.

"Hmm? Oh. Yes, mostly. Well, sometimes. It's constant, thoughts turning around inside my head. Words fall together, fall apart again, I get inspiration from a fragment and my mind runs with it whether I'm paying attention or not. By the time I sit down to write something out, or try to play it, it's often already mostly formed. There's a lot of muttering, especially when I get something nearly but not quite right."

Jaskier hummed softly, trying to get the tune right before adding the lines he was turning over in his mind; it already had a title: Hurricane.

_hurricane closing in - something about solid unyeilding trees and a lone bendy one._

_and when the howling wind dies down and when the sky grows clear_

_devastation wrought/the (willow sapling?) sheds a tear_

_his brothers with their iron bark too straight and strong to bend_

_lay splintered all around him, unyielding to the end_

"I don't have much more than that," Jaskier said, "and it's not - it's not about you, it's a theme that's been nibbling away at the edges for years, about resilience in general. Today just brought it back up I guess. Come on, we should get you to bed." 

"I like it here," Geralt said, his voice hoarse.

"I see that. We can do it again, but I don't think my neck would forgive me if I fell asleep like this. Besides, look at us. If Yennefer comes home and walks in on this, she's going to think something entirely different is happening."

Geralt raised his head, taking note of Jaskier's position, slumped down on the couch, legs spread wide, hand tangled in Geralt's hair. 

"Hmm," Geralt said, laying his head back down even further up Jaskier's thigh.

"Oh, well, I'm glad to see you still have your sense of humour," Jaskier said, just as, with impeccable timing, the front door flew open.

"Well, hello karma. It's not what it probably looks like," Jaskier told the silhouette standing in the doorway.

Yennefer cocked her head to one side, one perfectly shaped eyebrow raised. "And what is it you think this probably looks like?" she asked, smirking.

Jaskier _wanted_ to bite back, Yenn often managed to bring out the worst in him. But right now, he had other priorities. "No teasing, not tonight."

"I'm too tired for games," Yenn said, coming to sit on the floor next to Geralt, resting her head on the outside of Jaskier's other leg, facing Geralt, almost mirroring him.

"Oh sure, make yourself at home," Jaskier snarked. Yennefer ignored him, and reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Geralt's ear.

"What happened?" she asked him.

"Bad day," was all he needed to say.

Jaskier gave up trying to figure out why Yennefer was now attached to his other leg, and petted them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was not going to update so quickly even though I had this chapter finished even before the last one, because I keep writing ahead and don't have the next chapter even remotely started. But apparently if it's written I am not capable of sitting on it. 
> 
> So yeah, who knows when the next chapter will be up? Certainly not me. Talk to me while you're waiting.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OMG, they were roommates!1! Look, everybody's queer here, I don't make the rules.
> 
> Content notes: Geralt is still feeling pretty rough around the edges, allusion to historical homophobia.

When Geralt opened his eyes in the morning, Jaskier was watching him. He felt as if he hadn't slept - calmer, but still tired. Jaskier's presence was warm, and his natural fragrance, stronger for having slept bounded by warm blankets and Geralt, was comfortingly human. Geralt smiled slightly and pressed in close, nuzzling into Jaskier's neck.

"Morning darling," Jaskier murmured, clever hands back to stroking the moment he realised Geralt was awake. "How are you feeling?"

"Weight of the world," Geralt admitted. "Better than yesterday. Tired. So tired, like... muscles. Brain. 'flu tired. Feel like I ran a marathon overnight."

"You thrashed around in your sleep a bit," Jaskier said. "I'm meeting with the lawyer this morning and I need to get a bit of work done at home later, but I don't want to leave you alone. Would you come? Maybe stay with me the next few days? Ciri too."

"Ciri's already organised. Yenn. For my night shifts."

"Do you really think she's going to want to let you out of her sight any more than I do right now?"

Geralt hummed. _Probably not._ "I'll talk to them."

  
Jaskier showered while Geralt woke Ciri and started breakfast.

Geralt caught himself pacing, looking up whenever he heard a sound. A tightness in his chest that he hadn't even realised was there, eased suddenly when Jaskier came into the kitchen. He sat next to him to eat breakfast, leg pressed against him. _Whined_ when Jaskier took their plates over to the sink, and Jaskier quickly returned to his side.

He shot Jaskier a tortured look. "Why am I being so _needy?"_

"I don't have the answer to that, but I don't mind. Don't worry, we can - there's nothing I have to do that you can't be there for today. We'll work around it. Whatever you need, okay?"

"Contact," Geralt said. "I feel... it feels better. When you're touching me. I can't explain, it just feels... _wrong_ when you're not here."

"Okay," Jaskier agreed easily. "Your hair is all messy after you slept on it. Would you like me to fix it?"

  
Jaskier drove Geralt's car again. Geralt attached a hand to Jaskier's thigh. They dropped Ciri off at school, and Jaskier swore silently to himself, pulling the car over to a stop.

"I - organised to meet Essi. Before the lawyer. Cafe, public... I don't want to overwhelm you."

"I'll manage," Geralt said.

"Yes. But you don't _have_ to. I have another idea? Something more peaceful. I think you'll like it."

Geralt nodded, and Jaskier called Essi, asking her to pick up coffee and meet them there. Geralt wondered how a glass and concrete city office was going to be more pleasant than a cafe.

Jaskier, however, drove past the edge of town, out through the suburbs and into hilly farmland that looked almost idyllic enough to have come out of a painting.

WELCOME TO DORIAN, a sign boasted.

The car turned into the driveway of a property secluded by trees. For a rustic setting, Geralt noticed that the area was oddly well-paved, from the driveway to a nearby barn, to the house, and through gardens. There were no creative stone paths or gravel, it was all wide, smooth pathways that were well-tended and uncluttered. The house was large and although new compared to the other buildings they had passed, _looked_ like it was based on a hundred-year old farmhouse. A discrete plaque next to a handsome, iron-bound wooden door read 'Codringher & Fenn'.

An old man wielding a rake approached them as they stepped out of the car, white hair falling in waves to his shoulders. The paths had been swept clear of autumn leaves, small orange piles dotting the green areas of the yard. 

  
"Geralt, I'd like you to meet Codringher. Forgive the early intrusion," Jaskier said, shaking hands with the old man. "I had planned to meet Essi beforehand, but I - Geralt, do you mind if I explain?"

Waving his consent, Geralt turned to lean over a fence where a number of horses were grazing in a paddock. Jaskier spoke quietly to the lawyer, keeping one hand on Geralt's back. Essi pulled up as they were talking, juggling a cardboard tray full of coffee while she kicked the door of her car closed, her impish grin capturing Codringher's attention.

"Hello my dear," he said, kissing her cheek. "Oh, I see you have catered for us all, how kind. I'll take Jacob's inside and ask him to join us while the three of you enjoy the sunshine for a little longer, hmm? Just make your way into the office when you're ready."

Geralt had enticed a curious bay mare with a white star on her forehead over and was stroking her nose, talking to her softly. Essi approached with the coffee and the mare snorted, nudging Geralt's chest.

"You know, they say equine therapy is a thing," Jaskier mused, taking the coffee Essi pressed into his hand.

"They're beautiful." Geralt gazed longingly at the mare as she wandered away.

Jaskier smiled. "I don't think your house is big enough. Perhaps you could start with a puppy."

"No time," Geralt said. "Poor thing would be home alone too often with the way our schedules are. You?"

"Spend too much time travelling. Last six months or so has been the most I've spent at home for a long time. I hear cats are more independent."

"Allergic," Geralt said. "Hives. Sneezing. No fun for anyone."

Essi was watching them curiously.

"Explain to her, Jask? I can't." Geralt said. He turned to watch the horses graze, sipping at his coffee while Jaskier filled Essi in.

  
The trio made their way inside, Jaskier guiding Geralt like an overly attentive spouse. A concrete path ramped up to level out at the front door - there was no step, and inside was a wide hallway with a timber floor. Following the sound of voices, they made their way to a large room, the walls of which were filled to overflowing with shelf after shelf of books. Codringher was seated at an elegant conference table. A second elderly gentleman, his small frame twisted by scoliosis, was seated in a wheelchair next to him, tapping a pen on a notepad. 

"Jacob Fenn, at your service," the man introduced himself to Geralt. He nodded at the others. "Jaskier. Essi dear, welcome back."

They sat, and Jaskier pushed his chair up right next to Geralt's so their knees were touching.

Codringher started. "I asked for Jacob's input today because he has experience with Geralt's industry. Now, I have been investigating, and I have some information that I think will prove useful. Marx isn't terribly imaginative, his behaviour tends to follow a pattern, one we should be able to predict. The one thing that makes me nervous is that he's usually more timely with his vendettas, I don't know what he is waiting for."

"That worries me too," Jaskier put in. "I can't help thinking it has to do with Geralt. We haven't been seen in public yet, if he is waiting for that to break before striking..."

 _Oh,_ Geralt remembered. _It's started._

He looked up expectantly, shaking his head when he realised that nobody had heard him because he hadn't spoken aloud, and cleared his throat to try again.

"It's started."

Four pairs of eyes swivelled towards him.

"Pardon?" Codringher asked.

"Yesterday. A complaint has been made with my employer. Misconduct, having an inappropriate relationship with a patient. Probably assume one has been filed with the board of registration as well."

Jaskier gaped at him. " _Yesterday?_ Why didn't you say something?"

"Forgot," Geralt confessed. "Yesterday was... bigger things. Wasn't important."

Jaskier looked near tears, and Geralt squeezed his leg. "It's okay."

"It's not okay," Jaskier insisted. "It's cruel, and you don't deserve it, and with everything else... it's not _fair_."

"No. But better to know now. Fair or not, it's happening. Vesemir said they would investigate without me, if I was absent. I haven't been formally told."

Fenn spoke up. "Geralt, I'm a QC. Workplace law is my specialty, and I've worked with your union before. I can resolve this quickly, if you like, with both your employer and the registration board, no great matter. Overkill, to have a QC come at it at this point, but unless someone with more arrogance than wit wants you to go down for some reason, they'll be sensible. However, some clients choose to pursue a case to set a precedent, or to highlight a manager with a lust for power doing the wrong thing, which may also result in better policies for the future - but often also results in a destruction of the employer/employee relationship beyond repair. Bigger picture stuff. What do _you_ want to do?"

"I don't... know," Geralt said. "I'm too tired to think it through, but I don't like... unfairness."

"You can have some time to think about it, let me know in the next day or so?" Fenn suggested.

"More thinking probably isn't going to make anything clearer right now," Geralt said. "I'd like it to go away, but that seems selfish and I would feel guilty. I don't _know_."

Codringher and Fenn whispered between themselves for a minute.

"If we squash this now," Fenn said, "if we can force them to acknowledge early that you have not crossed any ethical boundaries, it will hamper Marx's plans for Jaskier. It takes away something he can use, but it will _also_ make him look unreliable if he tries to use it, casting doubt on any other claims. If we can tie him to the complaint somehow, even better. Further, if I light a fire under the registration board and get them to run a fast and, more importantly, _independent_ investigation, say - ooooh I don't know, led by renowned and _highly_ respected medical ethics professor Emil Regis, your employer will have to abide by that too. Anyone would be foolish to question it. Regis is popular, and doesn't hold back when his reputation is maligned."

Geralt looked doubtful. "This all seems very elaborate and - I don't know, like special treatment. Nepotism?"

"You're right, in a way," Fenn demurred. "But my boy, you're looking at it backwards. Nepotism is a problem, but if everyone had access to equal and fair processes, it wouldn't be necessary. My suggestion lies in expediting the matter, not falsification. I would not stoop to underhanded tactics to sway an outcome." Fenn hesitated. "Well, not in this case, when the outcome is so predictable. No, I offer you Regis not because he can be swayed, but because he _cannot_. Whoever undertook your investigation would reach the same conclusion, but the high-profile nature of this situation places a focus on integrity: it cannot be questioned, and they must be seen to do the right thing. The only... possibly dubious tactic lies in my asking Regis personally to put his name forward. It's right up his alley, he'd probably flap around like a fruit bat trying to get himself involved anyway, if the board didn't ask him first. In fact, I won't even have to ask, just a casual mention in case he misses the callout should do the trick. So, will you permit me that? I convince the board a swift resolution to the matter would be advisable, and drop dear Regis a hint?"

"This is a lot to take in," Geralt said slowly. "If it will make it easier on Jaskier's campaign against Marx, then yes. As you say, get the board moving quickly, and let Regis know. But no manipulating."

"White knights," Codringher said disparagingly. "You'd dig your own grave if it meant not having to break any _rules_."

Fenn smacked his shoulder without looking.

"Oh yes, yes, alright fine. It's just less _fun_ this way, and I've been looking forward to playing Marx like a fiddle. You're hamstringing an old man's enjoyment of life."

Essi smacked his other shoulder. "I'm pretty sure you're not just supposed to tell us you're a corrupt old bastard right out loud where we can hear you," she said. She was frowning, but her eyes twinkled with amusement.

Codringher smirked. "True, I am becoming incautious in my dotage, please forgive me. I am of course, absolutely, positively, one hundred percent all innocence and good intentions, which is why I am so very, very good at what I do. Cake, anyone? Jacob made it himself."

Food and drinks were passed around, and they chatted amicably for a few minutes until Codringher brought their attention back to the reason for their meeting.

"Regarding patterns. I have tracked down a at least four similar cases to Essi's over the years. Assuming Marx follows a similar pattern, we should be able to stay a few steps ahead. Two of the people I found are willing to come forward, one whose credibility is going to be... questioned, the other rather more reliable. And of course, Essi. The other two may yet be convinced, and more may crawl out of the woodwork as we go along. My question for the two of you is this: On a scale of getting him to back off and leave you alone, to destroying his livelihood completely, what do you want?"

"I want him destroyed," Jaskier hissed. "He came after _Geralt_."

"You are the most dramatic bitch I know," Essi said with a roll of her eyes, turning to Codringher. "Discredit him. Stop him from pullling this shit on anyone else. If there's anything that could land him in jail, chase it. Make him responsible for things he has done, but don't make anything up. There's always a chance that could backfire on us, let's do it right."

Codringher nodded. "I believe you are meeting with young Milva tomorrow, yes? I'll forward her everything I have, she can help you plan strategy."

"Ooooh, fine," Jaskier complained. "You call the shots, Essi. Codringher and I conspiring together is probably a bad idea, who knows _what_ trouble we'd get into."

Jaskier looked over to Geralt, half expecting to see disapproval in his expression, but instead found himself looking into a placid half-smile.

"Come here, feral bard," Geralt said, pulling Jaskier into his lap.

"Oh," Fenn let out a squeak, and, flushing at causing their host discomfort, Jaskier moved to stand up again.

"Oh no no, stay," Fenn said. "Please. It's just. It's wonderful to see young people feeling so safe without thinking about it. It's..." he looked up at Codringher, eyes shining. "I like seeing how much has really changed since we were young, it's just a little bittersweet."

Codringher moved to stand behind Fenn's chair, placing a hand on his shoulder, and Fenn gave it a squeeze. "We were 'roommates'," he said. "For many years. I never thought we'd be able to openly gay, let alone get married in my lifetime. Come, my dear. I think we are done here for today. The young people can see themselves out."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me again, surprise. The clue is in the name (;
> 
> edit: if you think Regis/Geralt interactions in Baptism of Fire were hysterical, hi. We're friends now.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not much happens in this chapter, it's just a little domestic.

Jaskier made one stop on the way home, parking outside an electronics store and making a phone call. A minute later, an employee came out with a box, and Jaskier gave him a generous tip.

"One of the perks of money and fame," Jaskier said, grinning. He passed the box to Geralt. "I did a bit of research, these seemed popular."

Geralt turned the box over in his hands. It had already been opened, and inside was a pair of jet black, expensive-looking headphones. 

"Noise-cancelling. I asked them to make sure they were charged so you can use them straight away," Jaskier said. "You want to try them out?" 

Geralt carefully placed them over his ears. They seemed like regular headphones at first, but when he pressed the switch that activated the noise-cancelling function, his jaw dropped.

"Wow." Geralt frowned. "I can't even hear my _own_ voice."

"Press the ear," Jaskier instructed, and had to repeat himself when Geralt shook his head, removing the headphones again. "Press the ear. It lets us talk."

Geralt tried again. "How...? You know, I had heard they were good, but I didn't bother because nothing ever lives up to the hype. This is... this is _wizardry_. Thank you." 

Jaskier smiled, pleased with his success, and drove home.

  
Kicking the front door closed behind them, Geralt tugged on Jaskier's hand. Half-expecting to be wrapped up in Geralt's arms, Jaskier was surprised when instead he found Geralt burrowing into _him_.

"Usually I'm on the receiving end of your hugs," Jaskier noted, folding his arms around Geralt.

"Sorry..." Geralt said.

"Hush, it was an observation, not a complaint. I'm happy to stick to your side like glue all day, if that's what you need, but I need to know if it gets too much, if you need space, alright?"

Geralt nodded.

"Is there... anything you want?" Jaskier asked carefully. "Last night, sitting on the floor... you didn't want to move. I don't want to... overstep, or misunderstand - or embarrass you, but if sitting at my feet and being petted makes you feel better, I can - we can do that."

"I don't know," Geralt said, shifting his feet uncomfortably. "No. That's not true. I do know, it's just... is it?... it feels... wrong. To ask for something so... subservient? Yes. Fuck. Yes, I want that, but what if it gets too much for _you?"_ Geralt asked.

"I don't think it will. I mean, I'll let you know, but it's... I'm finding it oddly validating."

Geralt tilted his head, searching for an explanation.

" _I'm_ too much," Jaskier explained. "I'm always, _always_ too much, and a part of me is afraid that one day, you'll realise that. Too loud, too anxious, too demanding, unpredictable, opinionated, colourful, annoying, too... _feral_." Jaskier shrugged. "But being here for you now, I don't feel impatient, or hemmed-in, or put-upon, or any of the other things others have described when I am being _too much,_ so maybe I can start to trust that you want to be there for me without conditions too. Let me help in the ways I can, however that looks."

Geralt nodded. It explained Jaskier's determination to assert his independence, to be himself, while simultaneously being afraid of the reaction from others. "I didn't realise. I'm sorry you were treated like that. You're not 'too much', that's a terrible thing to say to someone."

"I guess so. Perhaps I thought I didn't deserve any better," Jaskier said. "Why am I still talking? Enough words, action man. Come with me, I need to get some work done. I've put enough deadlines off this year."

Jaskier took Geralt's hand and led him into his music room. A notebook and a pen were moved to rest on the side of his keyboard. His favourite guitar, leaning within arms' reach. He sat on a cushioned stool and spent an hour or so composing with the help of the keyboard and the guitar, while Geralt sat on the floor, leaning against his leg. It took Geralt a few tries to negotiate the headphones, but once he found a comfortable position, he hardly moved. Whenever his hand was free, Jaskier dropped it to flex his fingers in soft white hair. 

Another hour, practicing. When he stopped for a break, Geralt was asleep against his leg, face slack, breathing deep and even. A small patch of drool was soaking through Jaskier's jeans. Jaskier carefully removed the headphones, brushing his hand along Geralt's hair to where it tucked into its braid in soft, even strokes.

  
Geralt woke slowly, feeling oddly calm and more alert than he had all day. Jaskier's hand stroking his hair was soothing, and he sighed contentedly.

"How long have you been awake?" Jaskier asked.

"Not long. It's nice." He looked up to lock eyes with Jaskier. "Thank you."

"I like this. It's after one, you ready to get some lunch?"

When Geralt tried to stand, his leg collapsed under him, and he grabbed hold of Jaskier for support. "Oops. Legs are asleep"

"You were down there for a good two hours. I'm not surprised."

Stamping his feet, wincing as the circulation returned, Geralt waited for the pins and needles to resolve before attempting to walk.

"Not feeling quite so pathetic," he said, hesitating when Jaskier offered his hand.

"I happen to like you clingy," Jaskier said. "I don't much like the negativity though. You need something you don't usually need. That's okay? It's okay to ask for things, and I want to know where you're at. If you're okay to be left but would still rather be in contact, or just want an occasional touch, or none - I want to know."

Geralt nodded. "Option one. I need to make a call. If your'e organising lunch, I should do that?"

"Sounds like a plan. Here, take... " Jaskier pulled a water-filled carafe out of the fridge, and passed Geralt some glasses. "Put these on the coffee table. Sofa picnic."  


Geralt called his GP to make an appointment, and had just finished the call when Jaskier came in with two steaming bowls of homemade pumpkin soup and warm, crusty bread.

"It smells amazing. When did you have time to cook?"

"I didn't. The soup was in the freezer, and the rolls are a long-life thing I had handy. All I did was warm stuff up. It was either this, or leftover pizza. I'll get some groceries delivered later."

They discussed their schedules over the next few days. Yenn would sort Ciri out for dinner and after-school classes, Geralt and Jaskier would pick her up after dance. Tomorrow morning, the social media appointment. Jaskier was excited about that, he had some ideas about introducing Geralt, and he wanted to at least lay a foundation on their own terms, before Valdo's campaign started. He outlined his idea to Geralt, and with his approval, organised to meet Essi for lunch after their meeting. 

When Geralt started flagging again with fatigue, Jaskier suggested a bath and another nap. He had a large tub, the kind with massage jets. It was big enough to fit both of them, as long as nobody minded where their feet went, but Jaskier settled Geralt in the warm water alone, washing his hair and massaging his shoulders, stealing soft kisses while he worked. He dried Geralt off with a thick, fluffly towel and tucked him into bed, dimming lights and spooning in behind him. Just before drifting off to sleep himself, he remembered the groceries, and pushed himself to wake up for just long enough to place an order, and then falling asleep with his arms around Geralt.

"I want to take something for Alex, have you seen - oh, never mind here they are." Jaskier waved a pair of concert tickets triumphantly and tucking them into a signed CD. "Oh, I guess I should tell you too. Since I am getting back into work, new manager and everything, more control. I have a concert scheduled for next month, and I'd like you all to come. Well, you don't have to. But Ciri, Yenn, anyone else you'd like to invite, and can we stop at a florist?"

"Er - yes, but it's 8:30pm, if we leave now we've got time for a stop, but I don't know any florists that will be open."

"Oh." Jaskier frowned. "Okay hang on."

After a minute of searching, Jaskier made a phone call. "It's sort of on the way, and they'll have it ready to go, lets go!"

Jaskier decided not to relax his careful restrictions on being seen together just yet - although he thought his patience had about reached its limit - and waited in the car. After all Jaskier's effort, Alex wasn't there, but Geralt left the flowers, card and gifts to a promise they would be kept safe and given to Alex tomorrow. Just after 9pm, Ciri's class emptied out of their studio, Ciri grinning at the prospect of staying at Jaskier's house.

"You look much better than yesterday," Ciri observed, looking at Geralt closely. 

Geralt hummed. "I feel a lot better. Slept a lot today. Jaskier looked after me like a mother hen. I have a doctor's appointment in a couple of days, yesterday wasn't much fun and I don't want to ignore it, even if I'm improving."

"Good," Ciri said, and that was that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe people keep coming back for more of this rather self-indulgent fic, so here if you're reading this, you're awesome. Pat on the back.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I chose to write out the social media communication rather than use fake ones in case of screen readers. It's not as pretty, but should be easy enough to follow?
> 
> Oh, and don't take any of the social media advice as actual social media advice because I know nothing and have no idea what I'm talking about.

_Taken Ciri to school, be back by 9. Breakfast ready if you want it_ =^.^=

It wouldn't be an understatement to say that Jaskier was disappointed to wake up to an empty bed, but the little stylised wolf Geralt drew at the end of his note gave him such a warm glow that it almost made up for it. By the time Geralt returned, Jaskier had showered, dressed, and was downstairs attempting to choke down a piece of toast with the assistance of a cup of ginger tea.

  
The social media consultant's office is another surprise. No sterile office building, instead they walk into an old bungalow that had been converted to a dual-purpose home/office. A very polite, blue-haired pixie of a receptionist greeted them conversationally while holding up a paper with instructions. _Hand your phones over so we can check for spyware, and take a seat. Ten minutes_.

Two minutes later, the office door is flung open by a woman of average height, unashamedly plump figure, close-cropped black hair and seemingly boundless enthusiasm. Jaskier loves her immediately. 

"Hi hi! I've been looking forward to meeting you both!" Milva enthused, and proceeded to fill up the allotted ten minutes with smalltalk and coffee-making. When she showed them into the office, she sat and tapped at her keyboard briefly, and the printer whirred.

"Okay, we can talk freely. Geralt, your phone is clean. Jaskier, yours has a stalker tracking app, but it only tracks your location, no sound or video recording. I've made a clone of it, so it thinks it's still active in case we decide to use it, and removed it from your phone." Rising from her chair she pulls two sheets from the printer, giving them one each. "Here's a list of all the apps you have that could compromise on security, you should delete those. Now, the way I see it it there are a number of issues to cover." 

Milva talked them through the mechanics of effective social media use, the sorts of things that garnered positive attention and negative attention, how to respond criticism, and how to deal with the various scenarios that may present as a result of a multi-pronged attack from Marx.

Some of her advice surprised Geralt, by virtue of its being _honest_.

"Honey, I'm an old queer black woman, my attitude is informed as much by my life experience as my work. There's a _reason_ I'm the best at this, and I've scoured Jaskier's timelines. It's how he operates anyway, I'm just showing you how to improve on that. You see the non-apology apologies whenever someone fucks up, it's advice based on trying to keep the support of both bigots and minority groups, but you can't have both. Taking a stand for the things you believe in despite opposition shows strength of character, and people will see that."

Jaskier looked downright offended. "I don't _want_ bigots supporting me."

"Good then. If you want to run anything past me first, you can reach me here, day or night," she said, handing them each a business card. "Don't call me at 3am to ask if you can put up a photo of your dinner, call me at 3am if something blows up overnight. If you want to reply to something that upsets you, run it past me first."

She gave their lunch date with Essi a thumbs up, saying that they should make their relationship public sooner rather than later, because, as she described it, right now Geralt was a pie without any filling: if Valdo filled it with his version first, it would be harder to replace; if they flooded people's minds and hearts with the squishy meringue of an adorable love story, it would be harder for Marx to push it out. Regardless of the outcome of the investigation, people would form views based on their inititial perception - and if that was negative, Jaskier's fans would come out protective of Jaskier, swinging at Geralt. If they had already adopted Geralt, they'd swing at anyone making accusations about him.

She went on to outline the support she would provide in the background - various influencer accounts, tracking data, information sources - Codringher would be looped in on any investigative work; getting accurate information out that contradicts Marx via legitimate and independent sources so that the general public could join the dots over Marx's sinister agenda, without having to ever say it.

Above all, they were encouraged to enjoy being happy together. "Someone who's trying to bring you down is going to get very, very frustrated if you visibly don't care, and successfully maintain a moral high ground. They make mistakes. And I'll be waiting," Milva declared.

Jaskier squinted at her. "Is this... personal, or business?"

"Both. I want to bring him down for what he did to Essi, she didn't bring me in until a year ago and her story made me want to crush him like the bug he is, but this isn't end justifies the means. You've provided the opportunity, but I would be giving you the exact same advice if I didn't have a bias. I wouldn't use someone else to scratch that itch. I don't need to. He'll trip up eventually."

"Essi," Jaskier said thoughtfully. "Ok. Remind me never to get on your bad side."

Milva chuckled, returned their phones and showed them to the door.

  
Leaving the office, Jaskier was so excited about the prospect of lunch that he was practically vibrating. Geralt drove to the restaurant.

Geralt and Jaskier were already seated when Essi made her entrance. Ignoring Geralt, she bent to kiss Jaskier's cheek before sitting down, smiling. "Ok, you dorks. Let's see if you can keep your hands to yourselves for an hour."

Jaskier made a face at her, and gripped the hand he was holding under the table even tighter.

**Alex Dances she/her @alexdances95** OMG YOU GUYS LOOK WHAT I JUST GOT [card/tickets Hi Alex, thanks for being awesome! <3 Jaskier]

 **Upsy Daisy @thatsthepointe** you go girl!

 **Couch muffin** **@potatotato** Bullshit

 **Upsy Daisy** **@thatsthepointe** why are you always such an ass?

 **Toss a coin witches** **@lumpygoat** Looks like his signature though?

 **Feral Bard** **@Jaskier** it's real. Alex is a gem, you should all be nice to her

_[Feral Bard @Jaskier followed you back!]_

**Alex Dances she/her** **@alexdances95** I'm dead you guys help I died what do I do

 **Couch muffin** **@potatotato** LOL you take your favourite brother to the concert! Me, ok? You take me

 **Upsy Daisy** **@thatsthepointe** I'm her favourite brother though

 **Couch muffin** **@potatotato** You aren't even related

 **Upsy Daisy** **@thatsthepointe** fight me

 **Feral Bard @Jaskier** shit sorry. Breathe! Now I'm freaked out that you're freaked out!

 **Alex Dances she/her** **@alexdances95** Ok except I don't believe you

 **Descrated coconut BLM @coconutgrave** I ship this!

 **Essi Daven Defund Police** **@MessyEssi** Me too

 **Feral Bard** **@jaskier** hush, you.

 **Descrated coconut BLM @coconutgrave** Oh no now I ship Essi/Jaskier too >.<

 **Couch muffin @potatotato** RIP your mentions LOL

 **I heart Jaskier @jaskifan** WOW I'm so jelly

 **Ciri @dancingassassin** Nice!

  
**Entertainment! @celebritynews** Jaskier & Essi Daven spotted having lunch yesterday with a bodyguard at lavish restaurant F!VE. So cute together! We can't wait to see more of them.

 **Descrated coconut BLM @coconutgrave** called it

 **Devilmouse @Devilmouse** you shipped it there's a difference

 **Good Onion @goede_ui** who cares?

 **Black Trans Lives Matter @sammiwrites** well you commented, so...

 **I heart Jaskier @jaskifan** oh no off the market again :(

 **Terry Dactyl Au @chickenmonster** um. guys? Look under the table. I think they're holding hands.

 **no gender, only goose @gaminghobbit** you can see both of Essi's hands on the table.

 **Terry Dactyl Au @chickenmonster** No, Jaskier and the BODYGUARD.

 **Now you don't @NowYouSeeMe** I don't see it.

 **Rawrosoar @FlyingDino** Oh gods I think you're right

 **gimme the tea @pillowfortpixie** Nah it's just... a napkin? Too fuzzy to tell.

 **Sweet Caroline @NurseCaro** Isn't he gay?

 **Gossip Boy @haveyouheard** Nah the guy's a bi icon

 **Insert Name here @nonanonymous** Maybe he's dating them both. Or maybe it's just LUNCH you can't know anything from one photo

 **bi bi Black Lives Matter @CertifiedDisaster** Stop assuming bi folks are cheaters

 **Insert Name here @nonanonymous** Polyamory isn't cheating you goose

 **Adult Human Human BLACK LIVES MATTER @transmenace** ANYWAY who's the hot bodyguard? He's H. O. T. Did I mention he's hot? Someone give him my number I want to die happy

 **Feral Bard @Jaskier** it was just lunch

 **Descrated coconut BLM @coconutgrave** THAT'S NOT A DENIAL

 **Feral Bard @Jaskier** which rumour would you like me to deny? You can pick one.

 **Descrated coconut BLM @coconutgrave** Are you dating Essi Daven

 **Rawrosoar @FlyingDino** No, the bodyguard!

 **Feral Bard @Jaskier** rumour denied

 **Descrated coconut BLM @coconutgrave** you'd say that if you were hiding something

 **Feral Bard @Jaskier** LOL when have I EVER

 **Rawrosoar @FlyingDino** but what about the bodyguard?

 **Feral Bard @Jaskier** what bodyguard?

 **Me (they/them/theirs) @UniversalFriend** Has anyone figured out who the bodyguard is yet? Wait, he's not a bodyguard? @Jaskier EXPLAIN PLZ

 **Nerd Out @nerdynerd** Facial recognition software for the win @grumpymedic is that you?

 **Geralt @grumpymedic** it's me

 **Nerd Out @nerdynerd** YES!

 **comradejane @janeylaney** OMG is Jaskier ok?

 **Geralt @grumpymedic** he's fine, we were just having lunch

 **Hair Criminal @bourbonandlace** Why does @Jaskier need a medic?

 **Feral Bard @Jaskier** he's cute

 **Geralt @grumpymedic** Cute?!

 **Feral Bard @Jaskier** ADORABLE

 **Geralt @grumpymedic** come over here and say that

 **Feral Bard @Jaskier** I would, but darling I'm already sitting on your lap

 **Rawrosoar @FlyingDino** OMG *swoons*

 **Descrated coconut BLM @coconutgrave** I'm just here to ship Jaskier with anyone apparently why is this so sweet

 **I heart Jaskier @jaskifan** ::cries::

 **Entertainment @celebritynews** WOW you heard it here first folks!

 **Upsy Daisy @thatsthepointe** HEY @dancingassassin isn't that your DAD?!

 **Ciri @dancingassassin** can't be, someone called him hot and now I have to scrub my eyes clean

 **Upsy Daisy @thatsthepointe** He kind of is though....

 **Ciri @dancingassassin** DAISY NO

 **Rawrosoar @FlyingDino** So have you met him?

 **Ciri @dancingassassin** Yes, I would like to think that I have met my own father. Hang on, I just learned he's on twitter and now I have to go and die of embarrassment.

 **Geralt @grumpymedic** Aren't you supposed to be in school?

  
**Feral Bard @Jaskier** Ok gang, here it is, all official. Yes, I'm dating @grumpymedic. Be gentle with him tweeties, he's not used to the attention.

  
"You might want to turn your notifications off, they won't stop for days." Jaskier said, wearing a slightly manic grin.

"You're enjoying this," Geralt said.

"I am," Jaskier agreed, kissing Geralt's neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've gotten ahead of myself again so the next chapter won't be nearly as timely.
> 
> Comments are tasty.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The start of this chapter is a bit of backstory that I wrote almost at the start, and then completely forgot to include while assuming I had. I don't think I did, so here it belatedly is, hopefully it fills in a couple of *whaaat?* moments you might have had (;
> 
> Content notes: Some light D/s dynamics but it's awkward as fuck and they're very cute. They need someone to tell them what to do >.<

"Geralt," Jaskier asked that night over dinner. "Why do you own a dance school?"

"I don't. It's Ciri's, really. You want the long story, or the longer story?"

Jaskier leaned forward, chin resting on his hands, waiting, and Geralt chuckled.

“Fine. You know I grew up in the foster system. Pavetta, Ciri’s mother, died young, she was raised by her grandparents. Calanthe was a formidable businesswoman, intimidating, she built up her own empire. Eist came from money, but he was quiet and kind, and involved himself mainly in charity work. I lived in a facility they sponsored, and Eist was… he was around. He took an interest in the kids, and not in a creepy way. He wanted to see us do well. Like you, with your community centre. He made sure we had access to the thing that interested us - sports, music, whatever. He would have put me through college, but I didn't know what I wanted to do, and put it on hold. I worked at entry-level jobs for a couple of years, but nothing really stuck." 

“When Pavetta died, Eist offered me a job. Ciri was a handful and Calanthe loved her, but was never very maternal. For some reason, the kid took to me. They moved me in as a full-time nanny, and when I left a few years later to pursue my career, we stayed close." 

“Eist gave me free rein with her activities, and we started a fun dance class when she was three. She’s been obsessed with it ever since, and when it became clear that was what she wanted, Eist found a reputable local dance school. The principal was a good dancer and a great teacher, but not much of a businessperson. When it looked like the studio was going to go under, Eist bought the place, kept everything else as it was, added an accountant and turned it around.”

“And how did you wind up with Ciri?” Jaskier asked. “Didn’t she have other family?”

“Bit of a surprise.” Geralt smiled. “No, no other family. When Calanthe and Eist died, Yenn and I were one of several options laid out in the will. Actually, we were separate options, Yenn is her godmother, and we were already acquainted through work. Joining forces was her idea. Ciri was twelve, so they gave her a say. Her inheritance is locked in trust, it pays any expenses and Yenn and I oversee the dance school and a couple of other things until she comes of age. The founder is still there, she runs everything day to day. We don't really interfere."

"So when Essi said you gave her a job...?"

"Guess I interfered."

"And the classes at the community centre?"

"Wasn't my idea, that was a couple of the teachers. All I did was say yes. They would have volunteered, but if we pay them to do it as an outreach program, they're covered by insurance, and the school gets a tax break."

“Ciri calls you dad,” Jaskier said.

“Yeah. She never knew her real father, he left while Pavetta was pregnant. I’ve been there for as long as she can remember. She decided I was 'dad' when she was about four. Calanthe was not impressed, but Once Ciri gets an idea in her head...”

"Ah. Well speaking of getting ideas in her head, Ciri has a proposal. Apparently, she has a birthday coming up."

"Ah. Yes? Should I be worried?"

"She wants to put on a musical."

"She already does a musical theatre class. And the school musical. Every year."

"No, she wants to run one. For the community centre kids. Apparently her life isn't busy enough already, and she still has Saturdays free after 1pm, and all day Sunday."

Geralt groaned. "That kid is going to wear me out before my time. I don't think she ever gets told 'no'..."

"Well, I cannot imagine whose fault _that_ could possibly be, mister nanny-dad, but I don't think it's worked against her. She didn't ask for anything for herself. I'm impressed. I'm on board, I can organise it, if you don't have any objections."

Geralt waved his hand. "She hasn't burnt out yet. If you want to, go for it. I'll 'interfere' again and get you a couple of teachers. Aiden already does the Wednesday night, he'd be perfect if you're happy with him."

"I'll check with Nenneke, she'll know better than I would." Jaskier stood up to clear the dishes, and then went to stand next to Geralt. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay, I - " Geralt paused. Jaskier was close enough to lean on, so Geralt did. Hands went to stroke his hair, and Geralt sighed.

"I _think_ I'm okay. But then you - do _this_ , and I can _relax_. I didn't even know I was tense a minute ago."

  
The next day, Jaskier insisted on driving Geralt to his doctor's appointment. Having previously negotiated medical appointments for his own mental health, he was aware of how draining it could be. Geralt came out with a referral to a psychologist that specialised in working with emergency services and PTSD, a medical certificate for another week off work and instructions to call if he needed longer, and the beginnings of a thumping headache.

"I thought you were being overly cautious," Geralt admitted, when they got home. "But I'm glad you were there. I'm exhausted."

Jaskier placed a glass of water on the bench with some over the counter painkillers, and Geralt nodded his appreciation. "How'd you know?"

"Been there, done that," Jaskier said with a shrug. "Therapy can be worse, sometimes. I make sure I have nothing else planned for the day, just in case. What else do you need? Do you want to have a sleep? Sit with me?"

"Sit. But if you have work to do..."

"I do have work to do, but right now you are more important. If it would make you feel better, you may join me while I work, like we did the other day."

Geralt nodded, but there was a little anguish in his expression as he did, and Jaskier couldn't help but dig at it.

"Is there something else you want? What aren't you telling me? You want to sit with me, but you're embarrassed to ask? To admit that's what you want?"

"Not... exactly," Geralt said, still evasive. "It's... more."

 _He wants to be told,_ Jaskier realised with a sudden flash of insight, and he tried a new tactic. Infusing his voice with a tone he might have heard from his father - _no, bad idea,_ he thought, and sidestepped, channelling Nenneke instead. He asked again. "Geralt, tell me what you want."

"I don't want to have to think. I want to be told what to do."

"Very good. Go and get changed into something comfortable and get your headphones. Meet me in the music room in five minutes."

Heart pounding, worrying about the consequences if he fucked this up, Jaskier grabbed a glass of the juice Geralt favoured, some water for himself and a bowl of grapes from the fridge. Cliche, but they were convenient, and like an idiot he'd said five minutes.

Setting everything up within reach, Jaskier just had time to find a cushioned mat before Geralt came in, and Jaskier smiled at him nervously.

"Jask I'm still here, don't worry. I can tell you if something is wrong, or if what you're doing isn't working. No pressure. Just because I asked, doesn't mean you have to deliver. Look, I got changed. Feels good."

Jaskier nods. "Do you think you can set something up with your educator friend soon? I'd just like to... _know_ I'm not going to do anything to hurt you."

"Oh. I already did. He said he's free tomorrow if you want to do something then. I forgot, with all the... last few days. You want him to come here?" Geralt reaches for his phone, forgetting he'd left it in the bedroom when he changed. "Uh. Have we... started? Should I ask you?"

Jaskier laughed, suddenly feeling more at ease. "How are we both so bad at this? Yes, you may go and text your friend. Run. And bring your phone back so you can see if he replies."

"Right." Geralt runs to the bedroom and back again, and is gone for less than a minute. Jaskier puts the mat on the floor next to the cushioned stool he plans to work from, and sits. When Geralt returns, he points to the mat without saying anything, and Geralt kneels. Jaskier pulls his head against his leg, quietly stroking his hair for a minute.

"I'm going to do some work. You can put your headphones on and make yourself comfortable."

Geralt arranged himself like last time, so he could lean on Jaskier's leg without lying on the headphones. They dug into the side of his face a little, but it was a fair compromise for shutting the sound out.

He was asleep within minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know some of you will have noticed I was agressively updating a newer work recently, I promise I'm not neglecting this one. OR that one. The other one was started in... _checks notes_ early May 2020, wow, decades ago. I've been working at them side by side for months and I had intended to finish this one before publishing that one and then I got extremely impatient because I am intermittently-functional chaos. Also if you've noticed any tense issues, it's because like the long-term planning creature I am not, I am writing the other one in present tense and I keep confusing myself.
> 
> I'd like to insert an inappropriate joke about being 'bipolar' but since I am, in fact, bipolar, I'm not sure if it works.
> 
> Anyway, the point. THE POINT, friends, is that my life has taken a turn for the chaotic and I have responsibilities now??? and the next couple of weeks will be too busy to do ~~any~~ much? Writing. So. Chapters will keep being slow.
> 
> Oh, and if you didn't know I was writing another fic and you're here because you like the lovely domestic fluffy love, don't check it out. It's not fluffy. It has very dead doves. It might get a little fluffy later. At the end. Which is written, but there's a lot of inbetween things that aren't written, so said end is still a long way away.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back!
> 
> Any past/present tense strangeness is on me, my other fic is in present tense because I didn't think that through very well and now I don't know how to change back >.>

Geralt woke up to the soft pressure of fingers combing through his hair, the cushioned earpiece of the headphones where his head was leaning on them pressing into him uncomfortably. He wiped away a sliver of drool from the corner of his mouth with his thumb.

"Hey sleepyhead. How are you feeling? Ready for some lunch?" 

"Hmm." Geralt stretched out the kinks in his neck and shoulders and glanced at the notifications on his phone. "Calmer. How long was I asleep?"

"Two hours. It's just after one." 

"I have to make a few phone calls. Gimme half an hour?"

Jaskier stood to help Geralt up, yelping when his leg collapsed under him, landing him back on his stool with a thud.

"I'm fine! My leg is asleep."

Geralt gave his own legs a shake to loosen them up, and rose to kiss Jaskier's cheek.

  
"Thank you," Geralt said. "I do feel better. Are you... how do you feel?"

"Good. Great, actually, other than the dead leg which, ow, is making its presence known again. It's... I like looking after you like this. It's just... calm."

Geralt brought Jaskier's hand up to his lips, kissing his palm, and watched Jaskier's eyes soften in recognition. 

  
His first call was to the real estate agent that managed the property side of Ciri's inheritance. There were some strict rules surrounding the home she had grown up in. In part, because the estate was heritage-listed, and changes beyond upkeep and maintenance might require council approval, but also because Geralt didn't want to change anything that Ciri remembered and loved about the place until she came of age. If he could have just wrapped it up in a timeless bubble until she was ready, he would have, but it wasn't practical. Having paying tenants kept the place from eating away at her inheritance. And they could have moved in there, but it was much too large for three people, and required a couple of staff for upkeep of both the house and the grounds. It was too ostentatious.

The latest inspection had turned up some significant issues - repainting, remodeling and in one case work that would have required a building permit. Geralt hardly hesitated before ordering an eviction. There had never been a problem with payments, the tenants were wealthy and if they had money to sink remodelling someone else's property - _and why would anyone do that?_ \- Geralt was baffled, but wasn't like they would end up homeless, they had plenty of options. If they wanted a place to modify, they could bloody well find one where it was negotiable.

Frustration started to seep back in. He let Yenn know, and moved on to his other calls. His Union, letting him know Vesemir had called them and wanting some information. Geralt still hadn't been formally notified, and until he was, there wasn't much they could do. Milva, checking in, cooing over the social media response. Coën, setting up a time for tomorrow. Here? Jaskier hadn't verified, so he checked.

"If you trust your friend, yes. I would feel safest here. Anywhere else risks exposure."

"First session is only going to be talk, basic stuff. There won't be anything to expose," Geralt said with a chuckle.

"Understandable. Look, I got creative. Lunch is leftover dinner, but with salad instead of vegetables, do you know how good your meatloaf is? I love it so much I actually had it for breakfast this morning."

"I know. I was there. Lucky I made extra," Geralt smirked.

  
Curling up on the couch together after eating, comfortably full and a little drowsy again, Geralt checks his email on his phone and the documents he needs to sign from the real estate agent are there.

"Um, Jask..." Geralt said in a flat voice. "I need to use your printer."

"Okay? It's wireless, just send it the document."

Geralt got up to retrieve the papers from the office, and passed them straight to Jaskier on his return.

"This is an eviction notice for the current tenants at the property where Ciri grew up, Eist and Calanthe's... house. Manor. Thing. It's huge, house is too small a word."

"Why are you showing me?"

"Read it," Geralt said, jaw tight, eyes anxious.

Jaskier scans the paper and gasps. "You're evicting my parents? I mean, I'm not sorry, that's hysterical, but why? Because of me?"

"What? No! I didn't know it was them until I got the paperwork just now! They violated the lease conditions, damaged the property. Not the way they'll see it, I expect, they were modernising things without approval, they probably think we should be _grateful."_

Jaskier snorts. "Oh, I can guarantee that's what they think. They are self-important entitled assholes, the fun kind of conservative that thinks they're always right and worked hard to get where they are, conveniently ignoring the privilege of their birth, and they will be _furious_ at being so 'misunderstood' by some backwards heathen who thinks he knows better than they do. Honestly, you shouldn't just evict them, you should make them fix everything they fucked up."

"I wouldn't trust them to," Geralt admits. "Jask, I have to talk to the lawyers, it's going to look like a conflict of interest." 

"So let them know and let Yenn deal with it. You don't have to be involved. Call Codringher, and whoever deals with the lawyer stuff for Ciri's things. And Milva, let her know in case it becomes a public battle."

"You're not upset?"

"No, why would I be upset? Because they're my parents?"

Geralt nods. "Families are complicated."

"Well, they aren't my family. You are. You probably should learn this about me sooner rather than later, I guess. Remember when you called me feral?"

Another nod.

"You weren't wrong. The irony here is delicious, and I will bathe in their tears. If you wanted to throw them out onto the street naked during peak hour, I'd come and gloat. Anything else?"

"Um. Yes," Geralt says, squirming slightly.

Jaskier looked at him surprise. "Geralt, are you getting _turned on_ by my vindictive streak?"

"I don't think you have any room to judge the situation here, mister," Geralt said, cheeks growing pink.

Jaskier laughed. "I guess I don't. How long before you have to pick Ciri up?"

"Half an hour."

Hovering a hand over Geralt's groin, Jaskier arched an eyebrow at him in an unspoken question. He waited for Geralt to nod before moving to kneel on the floor between Geralt's legs. "Scoot your ass forward. Hands behind your back, then no moving," Jaskier said, ordering him about with a grin and popping the buttons of Geralt's fly open with deft fingers. 

Geralt does as he's told with a soft moan, sinking down into the soft cushions of the sofa and relaxing. 

  
He barely made it to school in time to pick Ciri up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I keep apologising for delays, I'm going to be stuck on repeat, so here: this fic won't be abandoned. As noted at the beginning, I'm writing it a little differently to usual in that usually my writing involves an inspiration that lights fireworks in my brain and refuses to let me rest until I get it out of my system. This was started without any inspiration as a calm, methodical thing just to see if I could do it. I also tend to jump ahead and then come back later to fill in the gaps. And because I'm useless at holding off on publishing a chapter once I have it down, I also have no buffer to keep stringing you along with until I get over any blocks. So, sorry, and thank you for coming back and reading!


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Making up for the last way too short chapter with a longer one.
> 
> Content notes: some non-specific discussion of kinks (any mistakes are on me).  
> PTSD mentions and a bit of anxiety.

Coën turned up with a notebook and a smile the next morning, right after Geralt dropped Ciri off for her dance classes. 

"Nice to see you breathing, Jaskier," Coën said with a grin. Jaskier's eyes went wide when he recognised the paramedic from his accident.

"Oh! Hello. You aren't going to get into trouble too, are you?" the musician asked nervously.

Coën chuckled. "I'm safe, thanks for the concern though. Where can we sit?"

Jaskier waved him through to the living area, following with a plate of sandwiches and iced tea. He hovered nervously for a moment. "If there's anything else you want - tea, coffee?"

"No, this is fine. Thank you," Coën said, waving a hand. "Please, sit, relax. I'm just here to talk today, no judgement. Geralt said you've been running into some challenges. Why don't you tell me about that, first?"

Glancing at Geralt self-consciously, Jaskier lists his own percieved transgressions. “I coloured out over something simple, our first night together. I'd had a long day, wasn't coping as well as I thought I was and kind of... freaked out as soon as he started. And I guess we've both been a bit scared to try again."

"So you set up a colour system and it worked as intended? That's good," Coën said.

"Good?"

"Having control over somebody else is a big responsibility. You don't want to hurt each other. People don't safeword when they should for all sorts of reasons, ego or a false sense of obligation, or pushing through something they don't like because they think it will please their partners. Safewording over something that _seems_ small shows Geralt that he can trust you to let him know if things aren't going well when it's something bigger. That trust is important. How did Geralt react?"

"He looked after me. No judgement. I still felt guilty."

"What if the roles were reversed? If you are domming for Geralt, you think everything is going fine and suddenly he safewords. How would you react?"

"Honestly? Mortified that I didn't notice something was wrong. Want to know what it was, and make sure it doesn't happen again."

"No matter how good you are at reading someone, it can happen, and _assuming_ you can always read someone is likely to turn out badly. Would you be upset, that he had stopped things? You had plans, were looking forward to a fun night and now it's ruined?"

Jaskier looked horrified. "Of course not! I - oh. I had been thinking I let him down, but really it's the opposite."

Coën smiled. "You'll do fine."

The rest of the morning was taken up with information about safewords and other ways to check in on each other, and how to integrate them; safety principles and practices, the possibility of subspace and domspace, dropping and aftercare. Coën explained concepts such as 'safe, sane and consensual', explanations of the acronyms 'RACK' and 'PRICK'. He encouraged them to continue their cautious explorations with a little more confidence and reassurance that it was okay to sometimes get things wrong. He finished by handing them each a sheet of paper.

"Homework. These are checklists, so you can mark anything on here as yes, no, or maybe. You can do it together or fill it in by yourselves and compare afterwards. Not compulsory, but it's a good way to get you talking about preferences and limits. It might be awkard at first, but the more you talk about it the easier it gets, and communicating honestly is important. These aren't fixed, you might check something as an interest, try it and realise it's not for you - and that's okay. You won't know until you try. Sound good?"

Already scouring the page, Jaskier forgot to voice his agreement, until Geralt nudged him. 

"Excellent. So then, you think you want to set up another session or sit on it for a bit? Do you want to talk by yourselves first?"

"I do. I - we've been - uh..." Jaskier trails off, not sure if Geralt is willing to disclose.

Geralt rescues him. "Kneeling. It helps clear my head. I know it's not a substitue for therapy, but there's kind of a lot going on right now..."

"You're seeing someone?" Coën asks.

"Next week, possibly PTSD," Geralt informs him.

"Good, well done. If you think you need to sort out some boundaries with each other, I can recommend a kink-friendly therapist." Coën lets it go at that, and turns to Jaskier. "Jaskier, for next time, how do you feel about rope bondage?"

"The kind that looks like art?" Jaskier asks, almost innocently. "Geralt might have mentioned something. _Definitely_ in favour, but I wouldn't know where to start and it looks complicated."

"We could go through some basics next time, if you like. It's something that doesn't have to be sexual, and you could easily incorporate it with the kneeling. And you can both have a bit of fun learning, see how you like it too. Think it over, you don't have to decide now."

While Jaskier showed Coën out, Geralt cleared the remnants of morning tea, dumping scraps in the bin and dishes in the dishwasher. He grabbed his phone off the bench, where it had been sitting next to Jaskier's during their session with Coën, looking at it with a bemused expression on his face.

"Geralt?" 

Geralt shows him the screen.

  
172 missed calls  
73 new messages

"It's started," Jaskier said, a look of panicked guilt crossing his face. "I'm sorry. This is my fault..."

"No. Jask, _no_. I signed up for this, remember? I didn't go in blind, and it's _not_ 'your fault'." 

"Why am I the one panicking?" Jaskier asked.

"Eh. Let's take it in turns," Geralt said, kissing Jaskier's palm and then enveloping him in a hug. "You go first, I'll have a turn later."

The lighthearted comment makes Jaskier laugh.

"I guess we'd better get to making some phone calls then."

Geralt scrolls through the messages on his phone first, ignoring the ones from unknown numbers.

Yenna: There's a serious looking letter here for you, dropping it off on my way to work. And your new paparazzi friends are picnicking on the lawn. Ok, so not technically on the lawn apparently there's some fence line rule? Idk. I swear I tried not to knock any of them over on my way to work but they didn't make it easy. Might wanna camp out there for a bit longer, I'm going to stay with Triss for a few days if you're happy to keep Ciri with you? xxx

Union Thug Y: Sorry Geralt I know you're on leave, media are in contact about you. Can you give me a call back ASAP ~ Yarpen

Lambert: Hey man U ok?

Eski: Dude call me back I just heard my bff is fucking a PATIENT this is bullshit I wanna fight someone

Eski: EDIT: I don't mean u

Eski: And JASKIER? :o BABY CALL ME PLZ, EXPLAIN TO ME HOW I DID NOT KNOW THIS

Eski: Fcuk Ignore my dramatics u know I love u xxx

Eski: PS Lamberts worried about u. They will deny it. I can tell.

Milva: Can't reach either of you. One of you call me FIRST please, before you call the 2716 other people demanding answers. I can deal with some of this for you, and I want to talk to you about what to say because you'll need to make a statement or they'll find your first girlfriend's brother's cousin's next-door-neighbour's dog to give them an 'insider' tell-all about how you brush your hair with a comb made from the eyebrows of recyled babies or some equally stupid shit, never overestimate tabloids. 

Milva: Oh, and congrats, you two are adorkable, welcome to chaos.

  
The intercom buzzes just as Geralt gets another message from Yenn.

"Ahhh fuck what now," Jaskier says.

"Yenn. She's got my letter."

Jaskier opened the door and Yenn looked past him to Geralt, passing him a handful of mail.

"Sorry I can't stay, tell Ciri I'll call her tomorrow."

"Hello to you too," Jaskier said.

Yennefer frowned at him. "Hi?"

Geralt chuckled. "Yenn doesn't do small talk, she thinks greetings are a waste of time. You can see her, she's here, words are superfluous. Nothing personal."

"That," Yenn said with a wave. "Gotta run."

**Feral Bard @Jaskier** Hey everyone very short statement. Yes, there has been a professional misconduct allegation about **@grumpymedic** and yes, it involves me. The investigation will have our full support, please let **@ParaReg** do their job without interference, I will block anyone who gives them a hard time.

 **Feral Bard @Jaskier** allegations of misconduct should always be taken seriously, and I'd like to ask everyone to refrain from speculating until the investigation concludes. **@grumpymedic** will be making a statement at 3pm, media requests thru **@RedKiteMedia** cheers lovelies x

"Done," Jaskier said, hitting send and turning off his phone. "Panicking yet? You still look ridiculously calm."

"Calm like a duck. Serene on the surface, feet going in all directions trying to stay afloat."

"What do you want to do tonight after the shitshow is over? Keep it quiet, just the three of us? Have someone over? We could have a game night, bit of a distraction if you want."

Geralt went quiet. He couldn't predict how he'd be feeling a few hours from now, and from the tightness already across his shoulders, he worried it was going to get worse.

"Geralt? What are you thinking?"

"I have a couple of friends I'd like to see but... I don't know how I'll feel, after facing the media. What if I'm too tired? But I don't want to be thinking things into more of a catastrophe than they are either, and it might distract me. But I don't want to be trying to be all cool calm and collected in front of other people... I don't know what I want. Or need."

"Are your friends people who won't care if you're not superhuman? Because face it, who wouldn't be upset at having their career on the line so publicly?"

Geralt nods.

"How about we ask them over. Lay some ground rules, let them know plans might change. Make the dress code pyjamas, it's impossible not to relax in pyjamas. You can give me a sign if you want out, if you just want to talk to me on your own or if you need them to go. I'll take care of it. Your friends will understand."

Some of the tension Geralt was holding in his shoulders eased, and he took Jaskier's hand gratefully. "I can't think my way out of my own head sometimes. That makes sense. Thank you. Milva gave me some points to cover, would you help?"

Jaskier beamed. "I'd love to."

"You sure you're ready for this?" Jaskier asks.

"No."

"You can pull out, have Milva do it."

"No. It will look better if it's me."

Jaskier squeezed his arm. "I'll be right there."

Milva preceded them, and stood on the steps with a microphone, scanning faces for friendlies. "Keep your colleagues in check. You were all told the rules. No flash photography, this is non-negotiable. If my client gets light in his eyes, there will be one warning. The second time, this press conference ends. Is that clear?"

She doesn't wait for an answer and turns to beckon Geralt forward, the questions coming too thick and fast for him to make sense of them.

"I'm sorry, I can't understand what any of you are saying. If you'll quieten down, I have a statement to make. After that there's time for a few questions, but you'll have to go one at a time."

The noise settles, and Geralt starts.

"An accusation has been levelled against me of inappropriate conduct. Now, I'm currently on leave for a psychological injury, I'm sure you understand that traumatic events are part of my career, so I only received notification today. Given the nature of my relationship with Jaskier, I don't doubt that is the reason."

"As a professional paramedic, I have a high standard to uphold. Misconduct is a serious allegation and the investigation will have the full support and cooperation of both Jaskier and myself. I'm sure that whoever this came from, they had Jaskier's best interest at heart, and that is certainly a cause I can get behind. I won't be answering any questions that might relate directly to the investigation because I don't want to influence it. I know that doesn't really mesh well with news cycles, I'm afraid you're just going to have to wait. In the meantime, I'd ask you to try not to rely too much on hearsay and rumour while I can't defend myself."

Milva pointed out journalists for questions. A couple that were passed over looked annoyed, but she knew what she was doing: avoiding the tabloids, but not controversy. Several of the journalists she permitted questions had hard-hitting reputations, and they had done more preparation than those looking for a clickbait title.

By the time Milva called a halt, Geralt was feeling the tension again. Without meaning to, his fingers twitched, searching for Jaskier's hand.

As things wound up, there were several light flashes, and Jaskier pulled a wincing Geralt away while Milva roared her objection, threatening the offenders with future consequences for breaking her rules. "Don't think I won't remember," Geralt heard her snap as they left. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of competent Jaskier just for Lynge ;)


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Werewolf, friendship and fluff.
> 
> Beta-ed by the extremely capable [Octinary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/octinary), without whose assistance this chapter would have made a whole lot less sense.

"Ciri, I'd like to make sure your dad isn't left alone tonight, you think we can manage that between us?" Jaskier said, as they all piled into the entryway. Ciri nodded her agreement.

Geralt's step was slow and heavy, his shoulders slumped and a crinkle of tired tension mapped the corners of his eyes.

"I’ll take the first shift," Jaskier said, before Ciri disappeared to her room. "Be back in the kitchen in two point zero hours and the two of you can organise food for tonight. Let me know if there's anything in particular you want; I'll organise a shopping run."

Taking Geralt's hand, Jaskier led him upstairs to the bedroom and sat him on the bed, disappearing into the bathroom for a minute. When he returned, he knelt down, removing Geralt's shoes and tossing them to the side. He rocked back on his heels, looking up at Geralt.

"I'd like to get you undressed, give you a bath and a massage. Help you relax. If you approve?"

"Okay," Geralt said numbly. "But I don't - pyjamas. I don't - have anything..."

"Suitable for company? Don't worry, it's taken care of."

Geralt eyed him suspiciously, and Jaskier elaborated.

"Essi is going to organise some onesies, some of those furry fluffy ones, but also some things in cotton. You don't have to wear either, you don't have to wear pyjamas at all. Just wear what you're comfortable in. It's just for fun, you don't have to do anything you don't want to."

"Okay," Geralt said, relaxing a little and letting Jaskier undress him. 

Jaskier's ensuite was the largest bathroom in a house that clearly wasn't designed for a family that shared spaces. In fact, there was no 'main' bathroom at all: each of the bedrooms had its own ensuite, and Jaskier's private one was fitted out with a tub easily large enough for the two of them.

Stripping off and stepping into the bath behind Geralt, Jaskier sat on a ledge behind him to work the tangles out and wash his hair. Fingers made strong from years of guitar and keyboard-playing massaged at Geralt's scalp, and Jaskier watched the tension slowly drain from Geralt while he worked. Humming softly, he immersed himself in the bath behind Geralt, holding him in place while he floated and dozed.

Jaskier prodded Geralt gently awake half an hour later. "Time to get out. Dry off and lie face down on the bed for me."

Draining the bath and drying himself off, Jaskier grabbed a bottle of oil from the bathroom cupboard and followed Geralt into the bedroom, throwing him a large, clean towel. "Here, lie on this. I don't want to get oil all over the bed."

Straddling Geralt's hips, Jaskier forwent warming the oil up in his hands to drip it cold along his back. Geralt yelped, making Jaskier chuckle.

"Sorry, that was mean. Don't want you falling asleep just yet."

Geralt muttered something incoherent under his breath that made Jaskier poke him in the ribs. "Say again, wolf."

Geralt turned his head to the side so his voice was no longer muffled by the pillows. "I _said,_ you're an asshole and you can pay for it later."

"Promise?" Jaskier asked with a smirk, and he hadn't _intended_ to turn this into something sexual, but his misbehaving cock decided to start twitching against Geralt's lower back. "Fuck."

"Later," Geralt repeated, looking over his shoulder with a grin.

"Yes, dear," Jaskier said, doing his best to sound henpecked. "Now stop looking so edible, for some _unknown_ reason I'm trying not to be inappropriate while sitting naked on the bed on my very naked, very sexy boyfriend's back..."

Long, smooth strokes of Jaskier's hands spread the oil across Geralt's back before he kneaded at muscles, focusing on Geralt's neck and shoulders. Tense and tight, Jaskier worked the muscles gently but firmly, pushing deeper with each press of his fingers. 

When he was done, Geralt pulled him down onto the bed next to him, drowsy, calm, and breathing deeply.

"Better?" Jaskier asked.

"Better," Geralt agreed. "Thank you."

"Sleep if you want. There's still nearly an hour before you're needed in the kitchen."

"You sure? You're still hard."

"Yes, well, thank you for noticing. It's a little hard not to be, perched on top of your perfectly naked, perfectly round, perfectly tight backside. Yes, I'm sure. Not that I'd object, but it's not what I was planning, and you need the rest."

Humming, Geralt pulled Jaskier close and dozed off.

When Geralt's breathing slowed in sleep, Jaskier wriggled out, checked in with Ciri and organised a shopper for the requested supplies. Crawling back into bed five minutes before the two-hour mark was up, he kissed Geralt awake again.

"Still tired," Geralt complained.

"You want to cancel tonight?" Jaskier asked.

"No. Don't think so."

"In that case, Ciri requests your expertise in the kitchen."

Geralt dressed slowly, a little clumsy still. "Feels like after working double nights, but I haven't worked all week."

"No, but you've been doing other things all week, and some of those things have been quite stressful."

"I am..." Geralt took Jaskier's hand in his, giving it a squeeze.

"You am what?" Jaskier asked, smiling softly.

"Grateful. I've relied on you a lot, this week. Too much."

"Not too much. You're not a burden," Jaskier said. "Don't think that, or I'll have to start thinking my drama is a burden for you. Is it?"

"It's not," Geralt acknowledged.

"Well then, wolf, stop with the double standards. Go help your daughter. I'm just going to have a shower. I'll be down in half an hour."

Geralt nodded, then kissed Jaskier, long and deeply enough to leave him breathless. On his way out of the room, Geralt turned back, putting his hand over his heart, a silent I love you. Jaskier smiled, warmth flooding his chest, and mirrored the action. 

Eskel and Lambert arrived together, and Jaskier opened the door wide to let Geralt's friends inside. Both were wearing motorcycle gear and carrying helmets, and Jaskier saw Geralt focus on a thin set of stripes in nonbinary flag colours around the sleeve of Lambert's jacket. He knew Geralt felt guilty for not realising earlier - he’d probably seen them in that very jacket before, and he gaveGeralt’s hand a squeeze. Ciri - face, hair and much of her clothing dusted with flour - chose that moment to push past them both, leaping into Eskel's arms. "Uncle Esk!"

"Hello, cub," Eskel said, catching her. "Oof. You're getting tall, are you going to stop growing soon?"

"I hope not. Hello, you must be Lambert," Ciri said, grinning at the face that appeared behind Eskel. Lambert grinned back.

"You don't look much like a princess," Lambert observed, raising an eyebrow critically.

"Dad says I can be whatever I want to be, so today I'm a menace."

Lambert's grin widened. "Me too. Pleased to meet you, Princess Menace."

Geralt rolled his eyes, Jaskier chuckling behind him. When Ciri ducked back out of the way, Geralt pulled Jaskier forward to meet his friends. Eskel - Esk, who Geralt had been friends with since they started their training together almost two decades ago, and Lambert, closer to Jaskier’s age, who Geralt had worked with for most of the past year, and who Geralt had come to trust more recently. Eskel sized Jaskier up quickly, seeing the soft look they exchanged whenever their eyes met, and she hugged him without hesitation, warm and welcoming. By contrast, Lambert eyed him suspiciously, and Jaskier realised they were going to be a much tougher nut to crack. 

When Essi arrived, she plonked a large box and a bag down on the coffee table. Ciri dove in, pulling out and assigning animal onesies. Geralt shook his head, and Essi quietly pressed the smaller bag into his hands. After a peek inside, he kissed her forehead and retreated. 

Jaskier followed a few minutes later, and found him in the bedroom, sitting on the bed, holding the same bag in both hands. Jaskier took the bag from him, pushing his way between Geralt's legs to cradle his head, waiting while Geralt breathed, before tilting his chin up to kiss him gently on the lips.

"Any time you want out," he reminded him.

"Just. Overwhelmed. This is... all for me, I shouldn't need special treatment, everyone is being... so _nice,_ it's just..."

"Sweetheart, different people have different needs. You don't - should I feel bad, for this instead of using words?" He took Geralt's hand and kissed his palm, another wordless _I love you._

"No," Geralt admitted.

"You accomodate others, too. You go out of your way to do it; why would you deserve any less? I make all sorts of demands when I perform, to make it easier for me so I can focus on my performance. This is something that makes it easier for you. That's all. We care about you, we want you to be comfortable. It's not a burden. _You're_ not a burden.

“Have you heard the story about Van Halen and the brown M&Ms?" Jaskier asked, seemingly at random.

"... no?" Geralt replied, a little nonplussed, and Jaskier sat down next to him on the bed.

"There are all sorts of rumours about the backstage demands of celebrities, and honestly, some of them are pretty weird. Van Halen had a standard contract that included M&Ms supplied backstage, and somewhere else in the contract, 'no brown M&M’s in the backstage area,' with contract forfeiture and full payment as the penalty. Media ran reports that whenever they found brown M&Ms they'd use it as an excuse to trash things. Sounds dramatic, right?"

"I suspect, from the glint in your eye, there's more to the story," Geralt said drily.

"They put on huge rock concert productions. It was their way of checking the contract specifications had been read and adhered to, because if the M&Ms were fucked up, it was almost a guarantee that safety and structural conditions had also been fucked up. At a concert in Colorado, their entire stage sank through the floor. The M&Ms were a test."

"I'm not testing anyone," Geralt said, puzzling over how the story related to him.

"I know, but it's a great story. And I think... sometimes you see asking for things that would make it easier for you as being unnecessary. A lot of people saw the brown M&Ms as unnecessary diva behaviour. It wasn't, and neither are you."

Geralt blinked at him and nodded, picking the bag up from the bed where Jaskier had left it, and tipped the contents out. There were four sets of soft cotton pyjamas: one plain black, the next halloween-themed - also black, but with skeleton-bones painted on. The third was a wolf onesie, the fourth a blue dragon that matched the colour of Jaskier's eyes. Geralt, Jaskier was surprised to see, picked the blue one.

At Jaskier's arched eyebrow, Geralt blushed. "Reminds me of you."

Jaskier snatched up the wolf onesie from the bed, grinning. "Two can play that game."

When they exited the bedroom, Lambert was watching them with a frown, and Geralt blushed. Jaskier looked around the room - everyone except Essi had changed into furry onesies, and Essi was holding a fluffy white unicorn. Ciri was snuggled up on the couch dressed as a golden lion, to which she had added a novelty tutu. Eskel was a horned goat; Lambert a black cat - and Lambert was glaring at him, again.

Jaskier handed Geralt over to Ciri and dragged Lambert unceremoniously into the kitchen.

"No," Jaskier said.

"No what?" Lambert said back, and it was a little belligerent, because it was, after all, _Lambert_.

"No, I did not just disappear with Geralt to fit in a quick fuck while you were all waiting out here. He needed a minute."

"I didn't say - "

"You were thinking it," Jaskier snapped, and Lambert clicked their jaw shut. "You care about him too, I can see that, but this isn't a competition. If we're going to help him get through this, he needs us both - he needs us _all,_ and he needs us not to be at each other's throats. Are you in love with him?"

"I - _what?"_ Lambert sputtered. "No! Why the fuck would you ask me that?"

"Because I don't do possessive, and I don't want whatever the fuck is going on here to fester."

 _"No,_ I don't want to fuck your boyfriend."

"What, then? You don't like me?"

"I don't _know_ you."

Lambert's jaw clenched, and for a moment Jaskier was worried they were about to lose their temper, but then Lambert relaxed again. "I can get protective. More than people are ready for, usually, but trying to keep a fucking lid on it just... puts me on edge."

"Geralt makes his own decisions, but he also needs his friends around him right now. The fact that you're _here_ makes it extremely apparent that he includes you in that number. Be yourself, he... doesn't form attachments lightly, and he really doesn't scare off easily. I mean, have you _met_ Yennefer?"

Lambert's lips twitched, and Jaskier grinned back at them.

"Come on, grab some plates. Geralt and Ciri made all this, we should do it justice."

With piles of food on the coffee table and people seated all around it on couches and cushions, Jaskier dealt out cards and explained the rules of Werewolf, unable to resist turning it into a performance. 

“Welcome, friends, old and new, to the village of Honorton in the noble province of Velen, a place where magic and mystery and creatures of fantasy abound. You woke this morning to discover that one of your neighbours was brutally murdered - and you realise that one among you is a werewolf. You have to figure out who, before they kill you all. Each ‘day’, you will have time to discuss among yourselves, and decide who you think the werewolf is. Because you are simple, uneducated folk, you have no way of telling whether your neighbour is a werewolf without killing them, so kill them you do. Each ‘night’ while you are sleeping, the werewolf will kill another villager. When night falls, everybody closes their eyes to ‘sleep’, and I’ll ask the werewolf who they want to kill. If I tap you on the shoulder, you’re dead and can watch the game, but not speak. We’ll play a couple of relaxed rounds first while you all get the hang of it. Any questions?”

Ciri and Essi had both played before - Ciri in a drama class, and Ciri squealed when she realised it was a game she knew as 'Mafia'. When things were going well, Jaskier tweaked the rules: normally, one person ran the game and didn't _play._ If the first person eliminated by the werewolf took on the games master role instead, they could play as if there was an extra player, and there was the added fun of sharing that responsibility around - everyone got to have a go at running the game.

It was hilarious. Ciri was (unsurprisingly) good at it, Geralt (unsurprisingly) bad - he was a terrible liar, even for a game. Essi was hard to read, she didn't talk much regardless of her role. Lambert and Eskel picked it up quickly, and before too many rounds, Lambert and Jaskier were trying to outmaneuver each other, both realising that it was a _very_ good idea to get the other eliminated or killed first, but that if they did it openly, they outed themselves as the werewolf. When the other 'wolves' picked up on the rivalry, they started killing either Jaskier or Lambert off first, in order to cast suspicion upon the other and away from themselves. 

That trick only worked for so long though, and as soon as everyone had concluded that Jaskier and Lambert were no longer going to kill each other off, werewolf Lambert killed Jaskier first and won the round, shaking up everyone's expectations again. Jaskier laughed so hard he had tears in his eyes. Nobody overwhelmed his wolf, but they all took the time to let him know he had their support, their ear, their friendship, and Jaskier was a little overwhelmed by that. Watching them interact with Geralt, their obvious love and concern for him, Jaskier felt a burgeoning affection for each of them. Trying not to intrude on that, he kept everyone supplied with food and drinks, and made contact with Geralt with small touches often, quietly checking in to make sure he was still okay.

After everyone left, Jaskier closed the door with a click and joined Geralt on the couch. Ciri unfolded herself from her place next to Geralt, escaping to her room with a hasty good night, and Jaskier wrapped his arms around his lover.

"How are you feeling?" he asked. 

"Good. Tired, but happy. A little high on the company, I think. I talked to Lambert, and Esk. They're both... amazing."

"They are. And so are you, and you deserve their friendship," Jaskier said. "Lambert is a little protective of you."

"Lambert has surprised me these last weeks. They've been through a lot. I saw you drag them off. I'm glad nobody came back with a black eye," Geralt said with a small smile.

"Oh. _Rude_. We are both grown adults, perfectly capable of having a mature adult conversation without resorting to punching each other, I'm sure. No, I was worried they were staring daggers at me because they were into you, so I asked them."

_"You what?"_

"I thought they were jealous! Usually best to approach these things directly. I'm not - okay, this might be as good a time as any, to bring it up, we should talk about exclusivity. It's usually the standard unspoken relationship clause, but I'm honestly open to negotiation. Generally speaking, I'm probably too much of a mess to handle more than one relationship without falling apart, as much as I like the idea, not to mention the drama it would cause in tabloid-land, but I'm not possessive."

Geralt was gaping at him like a fish out of water. "I learned to... not talk about this," he says.

"Why is that?"

"Because most people expect monogamy, and if I don't, they think it's because I don't care, or assume I'm lying and cheat anyway and refuse to talk about it, or assume I don't have morals and will cheat if I suggest I'm okay with them seeing other people." 

"Do you want to see other people?" Jasker asked bluntly.

"Jask, I wasn't interested in anyone for a long time, until you. I doubt the issue is ever going to come up."

"So just us, for now, with an option to discuss it if either of us feels differently?"

"Yeah," Geralt said, and his face relaxed into the softest, doe-eyed look Jaskier had yet to see on him. For him.

"What are you thinking?" Jaskier asked with a smile.

"I'm glad we can talk about this. It's just... honest. It makes me happy, and I..." he put his palm to Jaskier's cheek. _"Bard." I love you._

Jaskier buried his face in Geralt's chest, suddenly overwhelmed. "Wolf." 


End file.
